


When I awake I turn to look on you

by mrsreysolo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Bendemption, Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Bond Shenanigans, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Redemption, Mutual Pining, Redeemed Ben Solo, Rey Needs A Hug, Slow Burn, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-10-28 09:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20776262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsreysolo/pseuds/mrsreysolo
Summary: There’s the last time she saw him. Ben kneeling, with the small gold dice in his palm. Mask off. His eyes, clouded with rage and pain and desperation, looking back at her. He was so broken, she knew. She felt the weight of her betrayal on his shoulders. Please, his gaze called out to her. There was that same word, unspoken yet just as pleading. Please. And she had severed their connection.Rey had survived alone on Jakku.But now, she could hardly think of surviving without Ben Solo.. . .The last memory of her churns in his stomach. The gold dice in his hands. The white and red of the sand. His heart in his throat. Her eyes, staring into his soul—how could she even look at him, with everything he’s done? With his vow? With his promise to the Dark Side?There was no more hate in her eyes, not like the first time in the forest. But the kindness was not quite there, either.Ben Solo—Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader, had spent his entire life in pain.But nothing could prepare him for the pain of rejection at the hands of Rey the scavenger.





	1. Remembering

Rey had survived alone on Jakku.

Her parents had left, and she was alone. She found ways to keep herself busy and to put food in her belly. She scavenged the Jakku desert for years. Dealing with unfair traders, brushing up against the desert thugs, keeping to herself. Waiting for her family to come back. Then she met BB-8, the tiny droid with a huge secret, and her life changed forever.

She had been thrown onto a ship, flew alongside Han Solo, fought with and for General Leia Organa, crossed the galaxy to train with Luke Skywalker, and saved the remnants of the Resistance from certain destruction.

And… she had bested Kylo Ren.

Kylo Ren, the creature in the mask. The man who had tried to pry the map from her head. The monster who slaughtered his own father. The soldier she struck down in the forest, leaving him with a scar across his eye.

It would be easier if she could just see Kylo Ren. But with what she knows now, what she’s seen now, she cannot.

She has seen Ben Solo.  
Ben Solo, the son of two Resistance heroes, who knew how to fight but not how to help him. The child who had Snoke in his mind from the beginning, twisting his thoughts and poisoning his heart. The boy who wanted to be a pilot like his father but was instead shipped off to train with his uncle. The young Padawan whose Master had failed him. The frightened creature who was almost murdered.

Ben Solo can try all he likes to pretend he’s Kylo Ren, but Rey has seen it all. Kylo Ren is a mask; Ben Solo is the truth. Ben Solo, the young man whom she can see through the Force. The one who tried to convince her he was a monster. The one who reached out to her after the cave. The one who told her she isn’t alone. The one who killed Snoke before Snoke could kill her. The one who had reached out his hand, desperately, offering the entire galaxy to her.

And she had reached for the weapon.

The memories of the throne room rest heavy in Rey’s stomach; a tiny cyclone of desperation and guilt and pain. _Please_, he had said. She hadn’t wanted to reach for the saber. She had wanted Ben to come with her. But he wouldn’t… he’d given her no other choice.

The memory of the night after the cave gnaws at her. The way Ben had sat before her, so still, so attentive. He had listened to her, really listened, she could see it in his eyes. He felt her pain. Force Bond or not, he _cared_ about her. And when she offered him her hand, he had taken it. His huge fingers brushing ever so slightly against her fingertips. She can vividly recall the tentativeness of the touch, the heat of his skin, the desperation for contact. The pain he was constantly battling.

Then there’s the last time she saw him. Ben kneeling, with the small gold dice in his palm. Mask off. His eyes, clouded with rage and pain and desperation, looking back at her. He was so broken, she knew. She felt the weight of her betrayal on his shoulders. _Please_, his gaze called out to her. There was that same word, unspoken yet just as pleading. _Please_. And she had severed their connection.

Rey had survived alone on Jakku.

But now, she could hardly think of surviving without Ben Solo.

. . .

Ben Solo had spent his entire life in pain.

He could not remember a life without Snoke in his brain. Twisting, poisoning, gnawing. Even before he had become fully conscious of it, Snoke had reached into his mother’s womb, claiming him as his own.

Snoke’s voice never really left. He was always there, in the back of Ben’s mind. No matter where he went, or who he was with, the whisper and threat of Snoke remained. _You are powerful,_ he would hiss. _Such power you will give to me._

His parents couldn’t handle him. Leia had felt Snoke’s grasp early on, yet never could untangle her son from him. Snoke’s grip was too powerful, too all-consuming, too everpresent. Han could never fully understand the hold Snoke had on his son in the same way Han could never really comprehend the conflict within Ben. The Force was strong with him, from an early age. For as long as he could remember, really. There were always those two: Snoke and the Force. Battling over his mind, his heart, his life. The pain was constant and aching.

Left with no recourse, his parents sent him away. Uncle Luke was going to train him on how to handle his power, the Force, the ever-churning pain inside. Uncle Luke was going to teach him discipline, mindfulness, peace, and quiet. Uncle Luke was going to help him.

And when Ben could not shake Snoke’s voice, Uncle Luke tried to murder him.

He had no one. His father did not understand him. His mother had sent him away. His uncle had tried to take his life. The only person left was Snoke… and so he gave in to him. He stopped trying to fight him off. He gave in to the anger, the lust for power, the pain. Ben Solo was dead. He became Kylo Ren, a powerful man, a _strong_ man. A man no one could beat.

And then… he met Rey.

Rey, the girl from nowhere. The girl who convinced the droid to befriend her. The girl who was sent to find Skywalker. The girl who was more powerful with the Force than she even knew. The girl who he could see, even when she wasn’t with him; the girl he could _talk_ to through the Force. The girl who offered him her hand. The girl who wanted him to turn. The girl who saw him, who called him by his name.

The girl who had betrayed him, and tried to kill him again, with the saber.

Yet even in the face of her rejection, Ben can still feel the soft brush of her fingertips against his. He can hear her voice, firm and even but kind. He can see her eyes, and he can feel her pain. She is so lonely. Just like he is.

Ben had offered her the whole galaxy, and when she declined, he vowed to destroy her. But how could he? When she was the only person in the galaxy who saw him?

The last memory of her churns in his stomach. The gold dice in his hands. The white and red of the sand. His heart in his throat. Her eyes, staring into his soul—how could she even _look_ at him, with everything he’s done? With his vow? With his promise to the Dark Side?

There was no more hate in her eyes, not like the first time in the forest. But the kindness was not quite there, either.

Ben Solo—Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader, had spent his entire life in pain.

But nothing could prepare him for the pain of rejection at the hands of Rey the scavenger.

. . .

Rey does everything in her power to keep her hands busy.

If her hands are working, she can put off small talk with the others. And if she can put off small talk, she can avoid talking about him.

_Him_. No matter what else she tries to think about, it always leads back to him.

Currently, she’s keeping her hands at bay by constructing and then reconstructing her metal cot. She keeps the door shut so nobody will think her insane—well, more insane than she’s already feeling.

The cool of the metal is a stark contrast to the heat she’s remembering. His fingers so large, possibly as large as two of hers put together, and yet his touch so gentle. His fingertips at first barely grazed against hers, and even when his hand was still, the touch was light. Delicate. Desperate. Vulnerable. Only for Luke to come crashing down on it.

The sounds of her room play into her memories. The clinking of the metal before her. The soft whirr of a fan above her head. The faint chatter of those on the other side of the door. Her own jagged breathing. Her boots scuffing against the floor.

And then… there is a silence. A stillness that she has felt only a few times before. She freezes when she can _feel_ him reaching out to her. She forces herself to breathe—inhale—exhale. She reaches out with her feelings to him, ever so slightly, and for a moment their bond touches. Then she turns.

Kylo. Ben. Whoever he is. He’s staring back at her and is just as still as she is.

She inhales quickly as he takes him in—his height, his shoulders, his arms, his overall massive stature. His large, gloved hands. She has spent so much time trying to not think about him, and failing, and thinking about him yet she seems to have forgotten just how massive his presence really is. His jet black hair, grown a bit since she last saw him. His big, brown, sad eyes. _Ben_.

“Rey.” The depth of his voice startles her, and she does her best to mask the hitch in her breath. She shuts her eyes and tries to center herself. _Peace_. _Balance_. When she opens them again, he is staring right at her.

“Why are you here?” She does not recognize the sound of her own voice. Does she sound like she feels, a whimpering child? Does it come out as an accusation? A genuine question? Everything in her begs to reach out to him, yet she is frozen by his eyes.

He studies her, hardly blinking. To look into his eyes is to feel his heat, feel his sorrow, feel all his pain, and yet Rey cannot look elsewhere. He does not respond; he only stares at her.

“I—I’m sorry,” Rey stammers, the memory of reaching for the lightsaber chewing at her insides. The moment when she reached for the weapon. The struggle that ensued. The blinding blast that followed. She wonders if he is thinking about that moment, too. _Of course, he is._

This is the man she has not stopped thinking about, standing in front of her, not saying a word. She wants to scream, she wants to cry, she wants him to say something. Say something. Here he is in front of her. Has she been dreading or anticipating this moment? He’s so close, she can hardly stand it. _Why do I need to touch you?_

“No, you’re not,” he says evenly. His tone is cool and even, but his eyes tell a different story. They’re desperate and in pain, like always.

“I’m not sorry for what I did. I didn’t—you wouldn’t—” She can hardly breathe, let alone speak. His presence leaves her breathless. _When did I forget how to breathe?_

“But I am sorry it had to come to this,” she finally spits out. She attempts to avert her gaze, but she simply cannot._ What is it about him?_

He takes a step closer, and Rey can feel his pain intensify. His pain, mingled with her own, their own separate loneliness fusing together. It makes her want to sink to her knees and weep.

“Come to what?” he asks.

Rey doesn’t answer. She stares at his chin, his nose, the long scar she left on his face. A thin line bisecting his cheek, which both roughens his features and makes him that much more—what is he? Rugged? Handsome? Both? He’s so close. _Why do I need to be close to him?_

“Say it,” he says again. He takes another step towards her. Now there is only an arm’s distance between them. “Say it,” he insists.

Rey swallows. His face, this close to hers, is nearly unbearable. The way he clenches his jaw; the way his mouth twitches. He looks like both a leader and a boy at once. _What do I look like to him_? “I am sorry you chose this way. I didn’t want you to. I wanted…”

She cannot bring herself to speak anymore. Not with the way he’s looking at her.

He is silent again, his eyes studying her face. Rey cannot possibly imagine what he’s looking at. With him, there are freckles and scars and lashes and eyes as deep as whirlpools. With her, there’s just—

A dull thud forces Rey to glance toward the door. There’s a scuffle of shoes and a clamor of voices. Someone Rey can’t identify says, “I told you you couldn’t carry it,” and a male voice sputters back in protest. Then the voices quiet, and Rey turns back to him.

But he is gone.

  
. . .

  
Ben’s room has always been empty. And yet it feels so much more vastly empty, so much more bare, now that he has seen her here. She has been here—well, not really here, but he saw her as if she could have been here—and now his loneliness has gone from a familiar dull ache to sharp, shooting pains clamoring against his chest.

This girl, this scavenger, has completely undone him.

He thinks about the time he brought her before Snoke, the way she had offered to help him, and her eyes, her pleading eyes. _Ben_. She had called him Ben. Ben, the troubled child who nobody quite knew what to do with. Ben, the brooding teenager his parents had sent away in exasperation. Ben, the padawan whose master tried to kill him. Ben, the foolish young boy he had tried to smother.

And yet all it took was for this girl to call him by his name, Ben, for him to want to _feel_ like Ben again.

He rests his head on his single pillow and shuts his eyes, trying to block out Rey’s doe eyes. It never works but he has to try. He has seen so many different versions of these eyes—when she’s angry, when she’s afraid, when she’s running, when she’s fighting, when she’s hopeful— _God, when she’s hopeful_. He tries to place her eyes as he just saw them. The way she didn’t want to look at him at first. The way that, once she did, she couldn’t breakaway. The way she could barely speak. The thickness of the silence that hung between them. Her eyes tonight fall somewhere on the spectrum of her pain, the pain she’s always feeling, not so different from the pain he is always feeling.

But there was something else, too. Something desperate. Something that mirrored his own eyes. His _hunger_.

_No_, he bats the thought away. There is no way that Rey, the heroine of the Resistance, could feel anything similar to the hunger he is consumed by. _Or can she? Could it be that she feels it too?_ He doesn’t know which prospect is more painful: the thought of Rey rejecting his desperation or the thought that she, too, has been silently suffering. _Let me carry it for you._

He sits up again and absentmindedly traces his scar with his index finger. The long line that mars his face. The permanent etch that should make him furious, should make him feel hideous, should make him angry, and yet… it doesn’t. The way she struck him down with the lightsaber, all anger and power and force. _God, she was so beautiful._ So beautiful in her fury and her glory. Even when, especially when, striking him down. Making him look up at her; helpless, defenseless, and hurt._ I would let you strike me down a hundred times_,_ if I could behold that beauty again._

He remembers her face as she had let the Falcon doors sear the bond between them. How she had no contempt for him, and yet her kindness was not quite there either. How absolutely broken she had made him feel. How he had screamed and vowed to destroy her. And he had meant it, in that moment, blinded by the pain of loneliness that he thought couldn’t go any deeper. And yet there she was, there to turn him down him, there to add to his neverending pile of rejection.

He’d meant it in the moment. But once the pain had dulled back into familiarity, once he remembered the feeling of her fingertips against his, he was reminded of the truth. He would sooner destroy himself than her. _But why, or why, did she turn me away?_

There is only so long he can indulge himself in Ben before the pain becomes too much, and he is reminded of who he also is: Kylo Ren, The Supreme Leader. The head of the First Order. The man who will strike down the rebellion once and for all. The one who will bring peace—a firm hand of peace—to the galaxy.

This is his path. And the Resistance is hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first venture into writing fanfiction, so if you have made it this far, I would like to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> The title comes from Mary Shelley's earliest surviving letter to Percy Shelley. [Read it here](http://shelleysghost.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/marys-earliest-surviving-letter-to-shelley#Transcript)
> 
> A huge thank you and huge to my beautiful beta [Rina](https://twitter.com/soIosreys). Your support means the world to me. Big thanks to [Seph](https://twitter.com/reylopoetry%20rel=) as well for helping me think through this story.
> 
> I have [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mrsreysolo)!
> 
> If you liked, let me know?


	2. Whispering

The hustle and bustle of the dining room hardly gets to Rey, as she picks at the food in front of her, lost in thought. They have landed on Takodana and found a semi-permanent base in a hidden and surprisingly vast clearing in the forest, thanks to a tip-off from Maz Kanata. ‘Semi-permanent’ was Leia’s term, as she told her people they may find another location that better suits their needs. They have not.

She is sitting on a bench next to Finn, and across the table are Poe and Rose, who has finally gotten well enough to eat proper food. By the looks on their faces, it is clear that Poe is heated about something. She briefly tunes in. 

“Look, all I’m saying is, I’ve paid my dues and I’ve done good work,” Poe huffs. “I just want a little appreciation for that, is that too much to ask for?”

“No, but keep your voice down,” Rose offers. “You don’t want anyone snitching to the General that you’re loudmouthed.”  
  
Finn smirks. “That wouldn’t be snitching. _ Everyone _ knows Poe is a loudmouth.”

Poe exhales quickly through his nose, clearly not in the mood for teasing. “I am definitely the best pilot we have here—” he begins, and then Rey tunes out again. She doesn’t need to hear another humble brag speech from Poe. Not today. Not after she saw _ him _yesterday. 

He had been there, with her, in her room—there, but not really, but it _ felt _ like he was there. And she could _ see _ him… and touch him, if she had reached out. She wonders how he would have responded to her reach—if he would reach back out, what his eyes would look like, if his skin would still be hot. 

“What do you think, Rey?”

Poe’s voice brings Rey’s train of thought to a screeching halt. All three of her friends are staring at her. Poe, still clearly disgruntled. Rose, with her soft. Finn, with a look crossed between curiosity and gentleness. 

“Uh…” is all Rey manages to get out before Finn intervenes. 

“You okay, Peanut? You’re quiet today.” Finn scooches closer to her and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Despite the whirlwind of her thoughts, the tip of Rey’s lips involuntarily quirk up into a small smile at Finn’s gentle gesture.   
  
Poe isn’t as friendly. Actually, he looks offended. “Were you listening to _ anything _I just said?!”

Finn shoots Poe a look that says Chill out, and Poe slumps in his seat, his legs sprawled under the table. Rey is expecting a glare, but he doesn’t look at her at all, and chooses to take out his frustrations with his knife and fork. 

Finn and Rose are still staring at Rey, and Rey realizes she’s going to need to come up with some kind of explanation for her mood. “I just, uh…” she begins, and squirms in her seat. “I’m just really tired. I’ve been training a lot, and… yeah. It can be hard.”   
  
It’s not entirely a lie. Rey has been spending her mornings hidden among the trees, training with the Force and with her lightsaber. There is, of course, the practical reason for her training. But it also allows her time in the morning to sort through all her thoughts without distraction.   
  
Finn looks a little suspicious but nods. Rose reaches across the table and squeezes Rey’s hand. “We are so proud of you, Rey,” she says softly, her eyes wrinkling with her smile. “You are doing what no one else here can do.”

Rey offers Rose a small smile, and then looks at Poe, still sulking. “And to answer your question, Poe, you are valuable to the Resistance. General Organa knows that, whether or not she says it to you.”  
Poe finally looks up and parts his lips. “Yeah, it would just be nice to hear it, though.” He sighs softly and takes another mouthful of dinner. 

The tension at the table lifts, and Poe starts another conversation with ease. Finn and Rose engage in his chatter but Rey continues to quickly pick at her food. In a matter of minutes, her three friends are so engaged that she doesn’t feel too guilty when she excuses herself. She blames it on early training, and they nod understandingly and send her off, returning to their conversation. She’s glad to see the three of them so at ease, chatting the night away. So glad to see her friends finding a semblance of normal, something Rey hasn’t felt in a very long time.   
  
So when Rey excuses herself, saying she is tired from her training, her friends do not offer much protest. She gets smiles from Poe and Rose and a hand squeeze from Finn, and then they fall back into conversation as she slips away. 

. . . 

Rey lays in her cot, staring at the ceiling. For the umpteenth time she is grateful to have been given her own room. Not that she would not necessarily mind sharing a room with Rose; Rose is sweet, and gentle, and understanding. But at times like these, lying in her bed, she appreciates the quiet solitude of her tiny room. It gives her time to think and breathe without having to explain it to anyone. It gives her time to remember him. 

Typically, her hours of remembering shift back and forth between several memories. Their hands touching. Seeing him through the bond for the first time. Him kneeling in the throne room before Snoke. The first time she saw him without his mask. 

But tonight, she can only think of him as he was yesterday. Here, in her room. Hair slightly longer than usual. His big, ever so sad brown eyes. The pure massiveness of his stature. His long scar, the one she had given him.

_ Why didn’t I touch him? _

Rey rolls her eyes at herself. _ Because he's Kylo Ren_, she hisses at herself.  
  
But the truth that she knows burns in her stomach. _ No he’s not. Not really_. 

Rey sits up and rubs her temples. She looks at the ceiling again, and then back down at her feet. She pulls the covers off her legs and crosses them, sitting up straight. She makes a decision. 

Rey closes her eyes and reaches out. Her eyelids flutter with nerves, and she can feel her fingers shaking. But nonetheless, she reaches out.   
  
For a moment, nothing changes. Rey can still hear the vague chatter of people outside her room, walking around the corridors. She is very aware that her breathing is heavy and slow. She squeezes her eyes, trying to focus, and then… 

There is complete silence for a second. Then she brushes up against something; her mind vaguely recognizing a presence. She stops breathing. _ Ben? _

The presence becomes so much larger, and sturdy, and yes, that is definitely him. She cannot see him, not like she did last time, but she can feel him. His presence fills her mind.

_ Rey_, he reaches back out. 

Rey is shaken by the deep timbre of his voice. She thinks no matter how many times he speaks, she will always be. Her palms start to sweat and her fingers shake even more violently. Her heart skips a beat.

_ You reached out to me_. His voice is collected, yet curious. And then Rey realizes she has no idea what she was planning to say to him.   
  
_I… I didn’t know this was possible_, she offers. It feels like a stupid thing to say in the moment, but it’s true. She had no idea they could talk like this, whatever this is. 

_ Neither did I, _ he replies. He sounds — what does he sound? Curious? Suspicious? Amused? _ It takes a lot less energy than the other thing_.   
  
She smiles softly. _ Yeah, it does_. She can feel her mind brush against his with each word, as if their bond were tickling each other’s minds. 

He is silent for a moment, and then Rey remembers that she is the one who initiated this and should probably say something. Luckily, his broad shoulders and faint pink scar are not here to distract her, and it makes the talking a bit easier. 

_ We, uh… we didn’t finish earlier_, she offers shyly. 

Ben is quiet for another moment. _ No, I don’t suppose we did_, he finally replies. 

Rey shifts uncomfortably on her bed. _ So… why did you come? _

She can feel Ben’s mind trying to find the words to say to her, the way it’s slightly bumping and pressing into hers. _ I wanted to see you_. 

Her eyes snap open, and for a moment she worries she has accidentally severed their connection. But his presence remains, large and powerful as ever. _ See me? _she asks dumbly.   
  
_Yes, _ he replies. There’s a beat, and then he’s there again. _ The last time we met… well, you said it wasn’t what you wanted. _ He pauses, and Rey imagines him inhaling sharply. _ It wasn’t what I wanted either. _

_I know. You wanted me to join you. To rule the galaxy alongside you. To fuse our powers _—

He cuts her off. _ I know why you left. _ He pauses another beat, then Rey can feel his presence grow darker. It makes her shiver. _ I am no stranger to being left behind._  
  
This last sentiment nearly knocks Rey off her bed. She’s shocked, for many reasons, and her thoughts swirl carelessly around her mind for a second. Then she quickly tries to grab a hold on them, anxious that he does not see her freaking out. The thought of Ben being able to see into her mind, even like this, is terrifying. Not because it’s an invasion—for he is here with her—but because—

_ I know you know what that’s like, too. _ He is soft, barely brushing up against their bond. But the whisper echoes in Rey’s mind, and she can feel her stomach sink. She knows all too well what it is to be left behind. 

She says the only thing she can say. _ I’m sorry_, again. 

He pauses, and then his presence is warmer. _ I know that, too_. 

Rey uncrosses her legs and lays back down again, overwhelmed by what Ben has just told her. He seems to feel her shift in position. _ You’re tired, _ he brushes. _ Do not let me keep you up_. 

She is about to protest, because she wants to keep speaking longer, she wants to be with him longer, she wants to feel his presence longer, when he nudges her mind again. _ We can talk more now, since this takes less energy and is less… public. _ The last word has a sad twinge. _ If you like, _ he quickly adds. 

Rey feels herself smiling, despite her despair at what he just shared. The thought that Ben Solo wants to feel her presence, too, is enough to make her cheeks warm. _ I would_. 

His presence grows even warmer, and soon she can feel his heat again. As if he is in the room with her, reaching out to her with his massive hands. She squirms in her cot, trying desperately to hide her girlish thoughts. 

_Goodnight, Rey. _His voice is soft and breathy. 

_ Goodnight, Ben _. 

. . . 

  
Rey falls asleep quickly. Ben keeps close watch in his mind, just so he can make sure she’s alright. She drifts off with such ease, he cannot help but feel a twinge of jealousy. How long it has been since he’s slept peacefully. But he’s more grateful than anything, really, to feel her thoughts turn slow and steady until they stop churning altogether, her mind blank with sweet sleep.  
_  
Why did you come?_ she had asked him. And really, there were so many things Ben could have said. _ Because I needed to ask you something. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because every time I think about you I think my whole body will burst into flames if I can’t touch you. Because you constantly fill my thoughts and mind and _ —

But no, he did not say that. He chose for the simplest option. And it wasn’t a lie. 

Ben is still reeling with pleasant shock that Rey had reached out to him at all. Her mind brushes against his gently, eager to form a connection. He could feel Rey’s excitement when he had responded. She genuinely wanted me to respond. 

He thinks about all the terrible questions he will eventually have to ask her; all the terrible questions he is sure she will have to ask him someday. He thinks, if they continue to speak, if they ever find some place in each other’s life, that there will need to be the rough conversations. There will need to be explanations, on his part, and _lots_ of them. He wonders if covering some of those bases sooner rather than later would be wise. 

But no, not tonight. Tonight, she was eager that he answer her. And he could feel her relief when he did. He starts to think that perhaps, in some stroke of miracle, everything he has felt swirling in his chest since he first interrogated her… maybe she has some of that, too. 

The perfect mental image of Rey is quickly shattered as General Hux enters the throne room. He pauses before bending on one knee, barely lifting his eyes. “Supreme Leader,” he says through gritted teeth. 

Ben blinks a few times before the image of Rey settles, and then stares at Hux kneeling before him. He can clearly see that Hux is absolutely furious at having to call him Supreme Leader, and that kneeling before him is an act of agonizing pain. It doesn’t take the Force to see this; it is really all over his face and body. Then Ben must assume his role of Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader.

Kylo clears his throat and nods, and Hux rises. It is now Hux’s turn to clear his throat. “The weapon operation is well underway,” Hux informs. “We have repaired all our fighter ships to tip-top condition. Our troops will be ready to fly once given word.” Hux pauses for a moment, and shifts his weight. “We outrank them in both skills and in number, _ heavily _ in number. Now all that’s left to do is find them.”

_ Them. _ The Resistance. Hux spits out the word like it’s poison. And not too long ago, Kylo might have done the same. But now… now there is a part of him, no matter how small, that cannot damn the Resistance. At least, not all of it. Not her. 

She had reached out to him. And she had been glad when he reciprocated. 

Yes, this changes everything. 

Hux stares at Kylo pointedly, as if expecting him to say something, and Kylo quickly obliges. “Good, General,” he says slowly. 

It is clearly not what Hux wanted to hear, as the general lets out an exasperated huff. “We are still having trouble locating their new base,” Hux admits. “It appears they have truly slipped through our fingers.”

Kylo sets his jaw and glares into Hux’s bright blue eyes. He remembers what happened at Crait; the rebels had been so close, and in his pride and stubbornness, he had allowed them to escape. Kylo can admit that to himself but not to Hux. 

Kylo leans forward. “If you have something to say,” he starts slowly. “Choose your words carefully, General. And remember who you are speaking to.”

Even without being able to see inside his head, Kylo knows Hux is a walking fit of rage. The corners of Hux’s mouth work and he inhales and exhales quickly. “Nothing, Supreme Leader,” he finally whispers. 

Kylo rests back in his chair. “Good, then. Proceed.” Hux dips his head quickly and scuttles out of the throne room. 

Leaning back, Kylo sighs—is it Kylo? _Who am I when I am alone?_

He does not have the answer. His mind automatically turns back to Rey. This time, it is her hazel eyes wide and on fire, as they were the first time they realized they could communicate through the Force. _My beautiful, brave warrior._

Something twists and turns in the back of Ben’s mind—_yes, Ben. When I am with her I want to be Ben_. Something that has been churning for a while but he has been too afraid to acknowledge. Something incredibly dangerous, extremely risky, and possibly deadly. He cracks his knuckles to alleviate some tension.   
  
Sometime soon, he will have to face the churning in the back of his mind. And sometime soon is edging nearer and nearer as his situation becomes more dire. Something he will finally have to face.   
  
But no, not tonight. Tonight is for remembering Rey’s hazel angel eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, thank you to everyone who has read, or left kudos, or left comments (or those sweeties who did all three!) on the last chapter. 
> 
> This one's a LOT fluffier compared to the angsty first chapter, but I thought our babies deserved some fluff. Also, I think I love writing girlish, nervous Rey. 
> 
> A big thank you to my beautiful beta [Rina](https://twitter.com/soIosreys). I could not do this without you!
> 
> I know where I want this to go, but do not know how many chapters that will take yet, so... stay tuned!
> 
> If you liked, let me know, please?


	3. Listening

When Rey awakens, she doesn’t open her eyes right away. Normally she hops right out of bed and treks to the forest to train, wanting to get that done early so she can get a start on the inevitably numerous tasks and meetings required of a Resistance… whatever she’s called. 

But not this morning. When she wakes, she stretches out her arms and yawns with a gentle hum. Her toes brush the tips of her metal cot and she lays her forearm over her eyes. She remembers his voice.  _ Goodnight, Rey _ . The way her name had dripped off his mind like something to be admired. She smiles, beside herself. The last time she felt this girlish was… well, never. She puts her hands to the redness in her cheeks and tries to shake it off. 

Then she remembers something else he said, something that pulls her out of the giggly bubble she had rested in.  _ I am no stranger to being left behind. _

The sentiment strikes like a hot iron in her chest. It’s an all-too-familiar feeling, being left behind. She had spent years on Jakku praying and hoping that someone would come back for her. Rey knows all about waiting. She knows all about being left. 

_ It’s different _ , a voice in her head hisses.  _ He knew his parents.  _ Rey bats the voice away like a fly. Ben didn’t hate Han Solo. No, he had told her himself.  _ He would have disappointed you _ , he had said. She wonders what Han was like as a father, how he cared for little Ben Solo, whether or not he was understanding of the constant tug-of-war going on in Ben’s mind. The likely reality makes her chest sink. 

And then, there’s Leia. What was she  _ doing _ , with her son out there, lost the ways of the Dark Side? Leia had trusted Luke with her son; Luke had created Kylo Ren. But Leia was a Force user, too. Why had she sent her son away?

Rey will probably never ask her this. Not now. She can’t imagine the kind of heartbreak Leia must feel — she must feel it, right — no matter how she displays her outsides.  _ He is still your son, and he still has a choice _ , Rey muses. 

Ben Solo. His father disappointed him. His mother sent him away. His uncle tried to murder him. Who does he have left?

_ Me. He has me. _

The realization makes her cheeks flush again and she pushes herself out of bed. Enough girlish drabble for one morning. She picks up her lightsaber, swinging the hilt around her shoulders. Time for what she came here to do. 

. . . 

Ben sits quietly in his empty room. His feet easily hit the floor yet he can feel his knees shaking. His palms are sweating and his fingers cannot stop fidgeting.  _ This is what you have done, Rey. You have taken the Supreme Leader and melted him like hot sugar. _

Ben has been sitting on his bed for a solid fifteen minutes summoning the courage to reach out to her.  _ She reached out to you last time, so yes, she’ll want to talk to you. Probably. Hopefully. _

He silently curses his father for his lack of guidance when talking to the opposite sex — well, to anyone really. 

Ben inhales and exhales quickly, trying to stop his knees from shaking.  _ Just do it _ . 

So he does. He reaches out — gently, his mind searching for hers to brush up against. And then he feels her. Her mind nudges his, and her presence is kind and solid.

_ Ben? _

He smiles at the sound of his old name. Truly, no one else could call him Ben. Just her. The way it rolls off her mind makes his knees shake even harder. Good thing she can’t see him. 

_ Rey _ . 

He reaches out further, and then he can feel her. Not just her presence, but her surroundings as well. Trees. Sky. Leaves. Is she sitting? He thinks he can feel the sun above her. What do her angel eyes look like when the sun shines in them?

_ I was wondering when I’d see _ _ —w _ _ ell, when we’d talk again _ . She says it almost coquettishly, and he wonders if she can sense the way his knees tremble beneath him. 

Then he feels a shift in her presence —as if her mood had suddenly changed, or whatever she had been thinking about interrupted by his presence. The panic is immediate. What if she was doing something? What if she didn’t have time? Why the abrupt shift? His immediate impulse is to reach out and comfort her, to brush her hair behind her ears, to run his thumb along her jaw, but he can’t—

Rey interrupts his panic.  _ I wanted to ask you something.  _ A beat.  _ About something you said last time.  _

Ben’s heartbeat skyrockets and his knees are practically jelly at this point. He squeezes his eyes shut.  _ Ask me whatever you like,  _ he offers.   
  
It’s as if he can feel Rey taking a deep breath. There’s another pause, and then she continues.  _ You said you were no stranger to being left behind _ . Memories of his childhood boil in his stomach and he does his best to conceal that from her. How does this thing work, anyway? 

_ I understand that, _ she continues.  _ Really, I do. My parents…  _ She trails off. 

_ I know, _ Ben tries to be reassuring. 

She adjusts herself. Is she still sitting?  _ I spent my whole life alone in the desert. With no one there. Everyone had left… physically _ . Ben sets his jaw to brace himself; he knows what she’s going to ask. 

_ You’re wondering about my parents _ . He knew they would have to broach this eventually and now there’s no point in beating around the bush. Not his style, anyway. 

He takes a deep breath.  _ My father, Han Solo…  _ He squeezes his eyes tighter, bracing himself for the dark spiral he’s about to hurdle into.  _ I told you before, he was disappointing. It was beyond that.  _ A beat.  _ The Force has been with me my whole life. And it’s blindingly strong. Call it a Skywalker curse. So even when I was a young boy… I had all these feelings that I didn’t know what to do with.  _ He inhales again, and he can feel her listening attentively.  _ My father never understood it. To be fair, he technically couldn’t _ — _ he doesn’t have the Force. Not like we do.  _

He lets the word  _ we  _ hang in the air for a moment. Rey is quiet, but not unresponsive. He can feel her mind opening to him. She’s really listening.

He continues.  _ My mother didn’t know what to do, either. I think she knew about Snoke early on, but, well… she didn’t know how to drive him out. So they sent me to train with Luke.  _ Rey already knows about how that went. He realizes his knees have stopped shaking.  _ I think I was the most angry with my father. Because he didn’t want to send me to Luke, at first. Leia eventually convinced him. They would fight and fight, but eventually, Leia won.  _

The space between them grows thick.  _ My father gave up on me and sent me away _ .  _ My mother too.  _

Ben exhales. There it is, finally out there, finally all said for her to take. He cocks his head.  _ But… you already knew that, didn’t you?  _ He doesn’t know how he knows this. He can just sense Rey’s knowinginess. Somehow, this girl knew him without him even having to say a word. 

She finally speaks.  _ I think _ — _ I mean, from what I pieced together…  _ She pauses, and Ben feels her shift again. What he thought was abrupt curiosity has now shifted to something sorrowful, and his heart thumps against his ribcage. 

_ Ben. I’m so, so incredibly sorry _ . He can tell she means it too.  _ But, Ben… all is not lost. _

He sighs. Hearing her hopeful makes his head spin. The boiling from his stomach moves to his throat. Decisions he does not want to make resurface in his mind. Can she see them?

He clears his throat.  _ I have no place anywhere else.  _ It’s true. Who would take him now, with everything he has done? His climb to the top was a ruthless one. The kind you don’t come down from unless someone pushes you.  _ What I have done has left me a narrow, cold, lonely road.  _

Her voice is quiet.  _ Your mother is here, and she loves you _ . She shifts again, as if she is not sure if she should say something else. He can feel her hesitancy, as if she’s chewing on her lip. 

_ You can say anything to me, _ he offers. And God, does he mean it. 

_ Ben, your mother is here. Chewie is here. And _ — _ and I’m here _ . 

The last sentiment sends his whole body into overdrive. He can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even reach out a little more to her. His thumping heart has become earsplitting— _ God, can she hear it? _ —and his throat tightens on itself. Hot tears sting his eyelashes, and because he is alone he allows them to fall like fat droplets onto his cheeks and roll down his chin. His knees are shaking again—everything is shaking. 

All because this scavenger said she’s here for him. 

_ Ben?  _ The sudden silence must have alarmed her. Suddenly it is all too much; he doesn’t want to leave Rey but he certainly cannot keep talking either. Not after what she dropped on him. Does she have any idea, the meaning of what she just said?   
  
_ I have to, um, I have to go,  _ Ben offers lamely. He can feel her presence shrink—is it disappointment? 

_ Oh, okay,  _ is all she gives back. 

_ Rey,  _ he blurts out, before she can pull away. He feels her presence linger, expectant and waiting. With his entire body panicking, it is difficult to find the words, and his mind scrambles to put together a coherent sentence.  _ Thank you, Rey _ . 

She seems surprised by his words, but not in a bad way. He thinks he can feel her smile a little. 

Then he pulls back and falls back onto his bed. 

. . .

Rey opens her eyes, immediately blinded my the Takodana sun, everything blurred by her own tears. How long had she been crying? She quickly glances to her right and left—no one to be found. She inhales quickly and tries to control her exhale. Her throat burns with choked back tears and her breathing had become increasingly erratic.  _ Breathe, Rey.  _ Inhale, exhale.  _ Breathe _ . The tears trapped by her eyelids run down her face quickly, dripping down her chin and onto the Earth, the only sound her jagged breathing. Rey moves to wipe her face when she finds her palm full of dirt. While focused on Ben, both her hands had dug into the grass beside her, resulting in fistfuls of dirt and greenery. She releases the clumps of dirth and wipes her face with her sleeve.  _ It’s fine. I’m fine _ . She just needs to focus, to breathe, to think about what she had just heard—  
  
“Rey?”   


Rose’s small voice causes Rey’s train of thought to slam still, and she scrambles to wipe her hands and find her footing. She stumbles over her own footing, and steadies herself against the tree she had just been sitting under. Not ready to look at her friend, she shuts her eyes again and tries to regain some semblance of composure.  _ Peace. Balance _ . She listens for the sounds of the forest—the wind, some birds, anything—but all is drowned out by her erratic heaving. 

Rose clears her throat. Rey finally looks at her friend, and Rose’s gaze is fixed on her, full of concern. “Rey… how long have you been here?”

Good question. She usually sets aside about an hour each morning for training, trying to center her mind and body and keep her saber skills in tip-top condition. This morning, though, she had finished her regiment and was heading back when he had reached out to her, and she hadn’t kept track of how long they communicated—

“We, um, we didn’t want to bother you,” Rose says to fill the silence. “But General Organa requested someone find you. Because of the meeting.”

The meeting. Rey had completely forgotten she was supposed to head back early for the General’s discussion—

Rose interrupts her train of thought again. “Rey… what is it?” She reaches out to touch Rey’s arm, but Rey stumbles backward, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by Rose’s touch. On a normal day, she would let Finn or Rose slightly squeeze her and tell her everything is going to be okay. But not today. 

“I—I’m fine,” Rey stammers. It comes out harsher than she wanted, but she simply picks up her lightsaber from the ground and shoves it into her belt hilt. “I just lost track of time.” She wipes her face again, realizing her cheeks are still tear-streaked. She knows Rose has seen her crying but decides to pretend like she hadn’t. 

Rose doesn’t push her; she simply nods softly. “Okay, Rey.” She looks as though she’ll continue, but then bites her bottom lip. “Whatever you say.”

The two of them walk the way back to the base in silence. Rey is grateful that her friend allows her to be quiet, that Rose isn’t pushing her—she’ll have to thank her for that later. She doesn’t think about the meeting, or what she’s about to walk into, or the fact that Rose is definitely going to tell Finn something’s wrong. 

She can only bring herself to think of one thing.  _ You can say anything to me. _

She wipes her eyes one last time before reaching the base. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who is reading, thank you from the bottom of my Reylo-loving heart. 
> 
> This was a big chapter for our Baby Ben! Given Rey's background, I knew I wanted to have a scene where they directly address Ben's parents. I hope I did it justice! 
> 
> Big thank you [Rina](https://twitter.com/soIosreys) for helping me direct this story. I love you, princesa!
> 
> If you liked, let me know?


	4. Waiting

Rose doesn’t push Rey any further once they get back to base. Neither do any of her other friends. When she reaches the meeting hall, she slides into a seat silently and does her best to look calm and collected. Poe is far too amped up about whatever he is about to propose to say anything; Finn looks at Rey with raised eyebrows but doesn’t ask. She gives Finn a small smile as a thank you and then folds her hands in her lap. 

The General is already seated, and now that Rey and Rose have arrived, begins debriefing. How many ships they have. How long they can stay on Takodana without being spotted, or without Maz popping a vein. Numbers on our resources. Rey usually does her best to be attentive, out of respect for the General, but today she simply stares at the General as she speaks and allows her mind to wander elsewhere. Not elsewhere, really. Him. The way his mind brushes against hers when they communicate. His presence is strong and solid, but also… soft. Tentative, almost. Like he is not always sure of what to say to her, or sure of himself. The Supreme Leader of the First Order, Kylo Ren, unsure of himself. 

This softness about him fills Rey’s mind and clouds everything and anything else she knows about him. Who else has seen this side of him? Ben Solo? His mother, she knows, but has anyone else? She looks around at her compatriots. Do they even know his real name, or remember it? She doubts they would believe her if she told them… no, it’s not doubt. She  _ knows _ they wouldn’t believe her if she told them that behind Kylo Ren, behind the mask, there is someone severely wounded. Ben Solo did not create Kylo Ren, but how could he now remove himself from him?

A shift in the conversation brings Rey back to attention. Poe is speaking, and he’s fired up. Of course he is. His passion results in the words tumbling out of his mouth at rapid speed that Rey has to blink a few times to catch up. 

Suddenly, his meaning becomes very clear. “And I believe our next move is to deal with Kylo Ren.”

Rey keeps her eyes on Poe, trying to keep her breathing steady and even. Poe is staring straight back at her, and then — _ everyone  _ in the entire meeting hall is looking at her. 

She doesn’t move. She doesn’t speak. She hardly blinks. She keeps her gaze steady on Poe. When she realizes he’s not going to continue without some sort of response on her part, she gives him a slight nod. 

Poe addresses the room. “Snoke was a bunny rabbit compared to what we are faced with now. He may have been strong with the Force, but not like Ren. Ren is the…” He pauses, then swallows. “Ren is a time bomb, and we can’t sit around waiting for him to go off. We need to shut the timer off.”

_ Shut the timer off. _ Rey narrows her eyes and turns to the General. If looks could kill, General Organa’s poker face could take out an entire fleet. Her face gives no inclination of how she feels towards Poe’s sentiment, save for the crease at her brow. When she speaks, her voice is firm and even. “What are you suggesting, Commander?”   
  
Poe doesn’t mince words. “We have to kill the Supreme Leader. And by we, I mean… ” 

Rey exhales quickly through her nose and grabs the edge of her seat with both hands. Lowering her head, she doesn’t look anyone in the eye, even though she’s well aware nearly everyone else is staring right at her. His meaning is crystal clear: there’s only one person here who can stand toe-to-toe with Kylo Ren, and it’s her. 

Poe clears his throat and starts again. “This is not something I’m saying lightly. But I think if we want any real chance of wiping out the First Order for good, we need to eliminate their biggest source of power and strength. And that means—”

“That means me,” Rey interrupts him. She looks Poe straight in the eyes. He looks about as uncomfortable as she feels, but there’s a fire in his eyes that Rey recognizes all too well. Poe is a zealot and won’t back down. “You mean, you want  _ me  _ to kill Kylo Ren.”

Poe shifts in his seat. “You are the most powerful with the Force among us, Rey. More powerful than even—” 

“I’m not,” Rey interrupts again. She usually tries to be diplomatic at these meetings but Poe has pushed her to the edge. “I’m not more powerful than he is.”

“But, you escaped when—”   
  
“We are equals,” Rey says, more harshly than she intended. 

Poe looks like he’s on the verge of rolling his eyes, which makes the blood already pounding in Rey’s ears become painful. “Alright, Rey,” he says slowly. “The point is, you are the only one among us who has been face-to-face with him and won. So… it has to be you.”

_ You can tell me anything.  _ The memories of his voice fill her mind and overwhelm her. She can feel tears prickling at the corner of her eyes, and she sets her jaw.  _ Don’t cry. Not in front of everyone. Not about him. Not when you’re talking about him _ . She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to keep from screaming and falling apart like a child—

Leia saves her from having to respond. “Well, Commander, I think you’ve given us all a lot to think about. I will consider your proposal and have an answer for you soon.” Rey has absolutely no idea how Leia can manage to be cool and collected when Poe has just suggested murdering her son, but she is. Leia gives a sharp nod—the signal that their meeting has adjourned. Everyone scrambles out of their seats quietly, moving quickly in opposite directions, going about the rest of their day. Rey can only hope no one saw her threat of tears. She remains in her seat, staring at the table in front of her, trying to control her breathing. 

Except Poe doesn’t leave. He gets out of his seat and moves to sit next to Rey. She doesn’t look at him and quickly gets up out of her seat. She doesn’t know where she’s going, as long as it’s away from Poe.   
  
“Rey…” he calls after her, then runs to catch up. He attempts to turn her around by touching her shoulder. Rey surprises him—and herself—by shoving him in response. Shoving him hard.

“The meeting is over,” Rey bites out. Her own aggressiveness is shocking to her, but she can’t think about keeping it in check right now. Not after what Poe just requested of her in front of  _ everyone _ . 

Poe exhales quickly. “Look, Rey, I know that you and I have different ways of going about things…” he trails off, and Rey finally meets his gaze. He’s clearly frustrated with her. 

“It’s not about the way we  _ do things _ , Poe,” she bites back. “It’s about the fact that you just all but demanded I kill Leia’s  _ only son _ .”   


Poe doesn’t miss a beat. “You are aware of the things this guy has done, right? The torture, the mass killings, the absolute chaos he’s brought to the galaxy. Rey, that isn’t her son anymore. Leia said so herself—her son is  _ gone _ . She hardly batted an eye at what I said. She knows this is the right thing to do. So I don’t get what your problem is.”

This sends Rey over the edge, and she has to bite her lip to keep it all from spilling out. “Easy to say when you’re not the one who has to do it.”

Rey turns on her heels and all but runs away from him. She knows that Poe would be more than happy to take Kylo Ren’s life if he had the strength or the fortitude to do so. But he doesn’t. What he said was right—if anyone here has a chance, it’s her. She’s the one with the Force. She’s the one with the lightsaber. She’s the one who has gotten away from him before. 

Rey finally breaks into a run, heading back to the forest, the only place where she can think in quiet. If anyone sees her, Rey isn’t aware; she doesn’t turn to look behind her. She can’t see anything anyway, not with the way tears are stinging her eyes again. She runs and runs until she’s out of breath, clutching her sides, finally collapsing underneath a tree somewhere. 

Rey had cried earlier this morning. Quick, silent tears, from the deep pain she had felt from Ben’s confession. Hot tears that had moved quickly down her cheeks and hit the forest floor without a sound; small streams that had been quickly wiped away. 

These tears are not the same. These are slow-moving, first blurring her vision and then moving down her nose and onto her chin. These tears keep coming, and no matter how many times she wipes her eyes, she can’t see anything beyond her wet eyelashes. Choked sobs burn in her throat and fill her chest; she can’t breathe or blink these away. So she releases, her chest heaving as each sob wracks her body, her chest moving up and down and up and down, and with the heaving her throat opens up to fully cry out. She quickly bites the flesh of her palm in a desperate attempt to keep her sobbing as quiet as possible. Pulling her knees to her chest, she rams her head in between her legs, and the tears fall even more quickly than before. She can’t focus on her breathing, or anything else; not the ground beneath her or the sky above her. Her go-to focusing techniques are all washed away by the heaviness of her sobs and the relentlessness of her tears. 

Memories of him hit her like a tidal wave, with each scene crashing against each other, leaving no room for coherent thought. His fingertips brushing against hers. Alone in the elevator together. The first time he removed his mask. Seeing Snoke’s upper half fall. The first time the Force connected them and she used her blaster. His gloved hand reached out toward her. Him kneeling with gold dice in his palms. Snow falling on his hair. The look in his eyes when he said he didn’t hate his father. Seeing him kill his father. Seeing him remove his glove before touching her.

_ You’re not alone _ , he had said. 

_ You can say anything to me,  _ he had said later.

Rey turns her head upward, gasping for air, tears still managing to escape even with her eyes shut. Her chest heaves, over and over, until her entire body is trembling beneath the weight of her sobs. “Why?” she cries out, to no one in particular. It felt good, like more of a release, so she cries out again. “Why does it have to be this way?”

The only response is the wind blowing through the trees and Rey’s own jagged breathing. 

But then… there’s something else. A silence.

_ Rey? _

She opens her eyes and inhales quickly. She can’t seem to bring herself to exhale. 

_ Rey, what’s wrong? _

His presence feels different. Whereas it’s usually solid and strong, yet hesitant, this time he feels… full-on nervous. Anxious. Urgent. Rey looks around her—as she expected, there’s no one to be found. 

_ Rey, what is it?  _ he asks again.  _ What happened? _

_ Did you… hear me?  _ she asks quietly.

A beat. There’s the slight hesitancy again, but only for a moment.  _ Yes.  _ The urgency returns, and he begins to communicate quickly, as if his thoughts are tumbling out of him.  _ I’m not sure what happened. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I could feel you, in a different way than you usually reach out, and at first, I thought I was imagining it, but…  _ He pauses for a moment, as if taking a deep breath.  _ Rey, what’s wrong? I know something is. I can feel it. _

She wipes her eyes quickly—which is useless, because she can’t see her—and realizes she has absolutely no idea how to explain what just happened to her.  _ I _ — she tries to start, but her chest starts heaving again, with more tears spilling out. 

As if he can feel that, too,  _ Rey… let me see you.  _

Immediately, she feels him reach out further, to complete their bond, so they can stand before each other. And she’s terrified; she doesn’t want anyone to see her like this, much less him. But his reach feels so desperate, so urgent, that without even thinking she feels herself reaching back—  
  
And there he is, standing in front of her. No mask. His hair is damp, like he’s just showered, and he’s not wearing his gloves. Rey looks down and realizes he’s not wearing shoes, either. What had he been doing?

Any and all thoughts of what he may have been doing prior are halted when she looks into his eyes. They’re pinned right on her, with such intense ferocity that Rey wonders if she should be terrified. But there’s something else in his eyes, too—something behind his tenacity. Something swirling behind his big brown pools, usually clouded with pain or anger. Today, they are clear—they are filled with something else. Except Rey can’t make out what that is. 

He stands above her for a moment, before quickly dropping to his knees to meet her level. Rey sits up straighter, trying to compose herself, but the tears fall all the same. Her chest bobs up and down as she tries in vain to stifle her sobs. She’s choking on her tears; her breathing is jagged, heavy, and inconsistent. 

Here she is—the girl who is supposed to kill him, sobbing like a child. And here he is—the man she is supposed to kill, looking at her in such earnest. 

“Rey, you need to breathe,” he says firmly but quietly. Rey shuts her eyes and takes a huge gulp of hair, slowly and shakily exhaling through her nose. When she opens her eyes again, he hasn’t moved. For a moment, they simply stare at each other. With those eyes of his, Rey is fairly certain she will break down all over again. 

Then he speaks. “What happened, Rey?” His voice is soft, yet the urgency she had felt over their bond is still there. Like he  _ needs  _ to find out what happened to her. Like nothing else matters. 

How do you explain to someone you’ve been ordered to kill them?   


“I, um,” Rey starts, and a fresh set of tears fill her eyes all over again. 

“It’s okay, Rey.” Still on his knees, Ben shifts his weight to rest on his ankles. “I’ll wait.”

And he does. While Rey gains some semblance of control over her breathing, he waits, never once breaking his gaze away from her. He waits while she wipes her face, and wrings her hands, and pushes her hair behind her ears. The energy it takes for them to see each other must be hard on him, considering he’s bearing the burden of it—all of Rey’s energy is spent on breathing. And still, he waits.

Even when she finds her voice again, she still struggles to find the words. “There was—a meeting today—” she chokes out, unable to keep the sobs from resurfacing. “And they—well, they’re trying to take down, you know, and—”

His face doesn’t change at all. He is still staring at her just as he was when he first arrived—with urgency, with concern, with… something else. 

“They want to kill you,” she finally spits out. “They—they think it’s the only way to—to dismantle the First Order, and they—they told me…” She cannot bring herself to finish the rest. 

Ben inhales slowly, and nods ever so slightly. He doesn’t seem surprised, which makes Rey cry even harder. The tears are constant now, with her hands and knees shaking uncontrollably. 

“They asked you to do it.” It’s not a question. He says it rather matter-of-factly, like he already knew what Rey was going to tell him. “They asked you to kill me.”

His quiet understanding and acceptance help Rey’s breathing slow a bit. She presses her lips together and nods. He nods too, and is quiet for a moment. He’s not surprised, but he seems to be digesting the information, or muddling through whatever else is behind his eyes. His  _ eyes. _ They’re going to tear her apart.

“I can’t,” she whispers. “They’ll expect me to, but I can’t… because...”

She stops herself before she can continue her sentence. Ben cocks his head slightly, and his eyes move slowly across her face. Rey’s cheeks burn as she watches him, hoping he contributes her blushing to her sobbing. His eyes linger on her mouth, and if Rey weren’t already such a mess, she knows this would nearly completely undo her. 

His eyes flick back up to hers. His lips part ever so slightly. “Because?” he asks quietly. 

There’s a rustle in the trees, and then the far-off sound of voices. Ben looks over his shoulder quickly, then turns back to Rey. Those eyes of his could burn right through her—they  _ are  _ burning right through her—they could completely open her up, remove all her barriers, and strip her down to—

Before Rey can process what’s happening, his bare hand is reaching out to her, and his fingertips land on her wet cheek. His index finger traces the curve of her jaw, ever so slightly, for the briefest moment, and any air Rey had held onto is completely knocked out of her. 

And just as quickly as he had come, he is gone.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still here, reading my little fic, thank you from the bottom of my Reylo loving heart. 
> 
> This chapter took me several attempts to write and to be honest, I'm still not quite sure of it, so I hope it turned out okay.
> 
> As always, thank you to my princess [Rina](https://twitter.com/soIosreys) for her pre-reading and support. 
> 
> If you liked, let me know?


	5. Seeing

Kylo Ren has made his fair share of people suffer. You don’t earn the name Jedi Killer for nothing. You don’t survive as Snoke’s apprentice without stepping on the toes of those whose jealousy makes them lash out. You don’t become the Supreme Leader without first slaughtering your master. 

Kylo Ren has done things—horribly violent things. He has given everything he has, first to Snoke, then to the First Order, then to the Dark Side. He _ is _the First Order now. 

And yet here he stands—alone with no mask and no shoes—prepared to give it all up for a girl. An orphan from Jakku. A scavenger. The last Jedi. The beacon of light for the Resistance. 

She calls him Ben—_ when I am with her, I want to be Ben, I have to be Ben _ —and looks at him not like the murderer he is but rather the man he could possibly be. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren has all but unraveled and he is left with Ben. This girl has been picking at Kylo Ren’s jagged composure, stitch by stitch, since he first laid eyes on her in Takodana. And now she has pulled out all the thread with a simple word— _ because _. 

Seeing Rey cry like that had been nearly too much for Ben. He wanted to grab her, to hold her, to sweep her up and carry her away. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, to press his lips against her temple, to take all the pain in her eyes and carry it for her. Nevermind that his own pain nearly crushes him; he would shoulder Rey’s in a heartbeat. 

But he couldn’t do any of that and had instead stolen the smallest touch—his fingertips against her cheek, his finger slowly tracing the curve of her jaw. The feeling of her replays over and over again in his mind. The wetness of her cheeks. The soft skin under her jaw. The smooth curve of her chin. Her flushed cheeks. The heat that radiated from her. 

This is how Kylo Ren will die. Not with a battle or a coup. Not with violence. Not with a bang, but with a sob. Rey’s sob. 

He knew he would have to decide one day. He wasn’t ready to until now. But seeing Rey weep for him like that, having a front row to her cries, feeling her pain through their bond… he can’t wait any longer. 

Ben walks over to the small nightstand next to his bed. He slides open the single drawer and removes the single piece of paper, folded in fours. Decisions he did not want to make resurface as his trembling fingers slowly unfold the paper. This tiny piece of information he has been sitting on that will change everything. 

Scratched onto the paper is a code, a virus written specifically for him. He’d had to go to Canto Bight to get it, sitting across from a master codebreaker’s friend of a friend, simultaneously threatening their livelihood and stroking their inflated egos before the virus had been placed in his hands. With this tiny code, the entire armada of the First Order will become vegetables, their engines melted and stuck.

He exhales, staring at the code before him. Once he installs this, there will be no going back. Kylo Ren will be dead, and he will be left only with Ben. _ Who am I, really? When I am alone? When I am with her? _

He remembers what lead him to this point. All the years of his childhood spent alone and misunderstood. Snoke’s voice, constantly echoing in the chambers of his mind, twisting his thoughts and poisoning his reality. The training camp with Luke, where the other padawan had steered clear of him. His little tent, with only a bed and a desk, the only place he could really be himself. That same tent where his uncle had tried to murder him. The entire temple Luke had tried to build—gone in an instant. The years spent under Snoke’s firm hand, bowing and kneeling before him. The neverending sneers from General Hux. Those quiet moments spent with his grandfather’s mask. Scouring the galaxy for a droid with a map. Meeting a scavenger in the forest. 

He remembers the tears filling Rey’s angel eyes, and suddenly the answer is clear. It’s Ben. 

This is how Kylo Ren dies. This is how he becomes Ben Solo. 

. . .

Whoever the far-off voices belonged to do not find Rey. She listens to their muffled footsteps as they pass by her, and then she is left with only the sound of the wind in the trees and her heart thudding in her chest. 

Her skin burns where he touched her. She’s reminding of the first time they touched, when his fingertips had just barely brushed against hers. His touch today was soft, too, with just the tip of his finger tracing along her jaw. He had knelt on the ground before her, his eyes burning into her, melting her insides and making her knees tremble. He had been _ so _close to her. She wants to reach back out, to beg him to come back, to kneel in front of her again, to get even closer… but she doesn’t. She just sits on the grass for who knows how long, reveling in the memory of his touch, deciding what to do next. 

She inhales quickly before going in search of General Organa.   
  


. . . 

General Organa always seems to be doing something—talking with someone, reading an old book, looking over charts. She never appears to be _ not _ busy. So when Rey taps on her door, she is surprised to find the General alone at her desk as Rey clicks the door shut behind her. 

Leia smiles softly at Rey before patting the seat next to her as a silent invitation to sit. “I was wondering when you would stop by,” Leia says as Rey takes the seat, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Where Rey is all adrenaline and nerves, Leia is calm and serene. Rey can’t help but admire her steely cool in the face of, well, _ everything _. 

They don’t speak for a moment. For a moment, there is just silence. There is just Leia looking at Rey quietly, and Rey cracking her knuckles and chewing the inside of her cheek. Rey knows why she’s come here, but when it comes down to it, she hasn’t the slightest idea what to say to Leia. How do you confront the person whose son you’ve been tasked to kill? What to say to her, when she seemed to even _ agree _ with the circumstances?  
  
It is Leia who finally breaks the silence. “I suspect this has to do with my son.”   
  
Rey’s throat tightens up at the sound of his familial tie. She wills herself to not cry; not _ again, _when she has already shed so many tears today. Rey nods slightly, blinking rapidly to keep her tear ducts in check. 

Leia shifts in her seat, and Rey thinks this is the first time she’s seen the General truly uncomfortable. “Well, there’s not much there to say,” Leia sighs. “We are depleted in number. Growing, yes, but… depleted. Our advantage lies in their current lack of knowledge. They have no idea where we are. The next best strategy is to take out their central power. Without—without him, they’ll—” 

“Do you want him to die?” Rey can’t help but interrupt. Leia cocks her head slightly, blinking at Rey. “Do you really? You’re fine with this?”  
  
Leia sighs again and presses a hand to her temple. “Rey…” she begins, before moving to place a hand on Rey’s shoulder. “There are a lot of things I am not _ fine _with. It comes with the role of General. There will be a lot of loss, a lot of disappointments, a lot of death.” Leia pauses to shift in her seat again, and when she speaks, she’s dropped to a whisper. “No, I don’t want him to die. I want him back.”

Rey opens her mouth to speak, but Leia cuts her off. “I assume that’s what you want, too.”  
  
Rey shuts her mouth abruptly, only for it to drop back open again. “I—what?”

Leia smiles a little—a half-smile, with just the corners of her lips perking upward. “You don’t want him to die. You wish he were here, too.”

Rey can’t help but immediately flush. She brings her hands to her face to try to cover the red blooming across her cheeks; a futile effort, for Leia chuckles softly, and Rey feels like a teenage girl blushing about her crush. _ Great _. 

Leia’s chuckle fades and her eyes become serious again. She moves her hand from Rey’s shoulder and gently squeezes her hands. “There is nothing I want more than for him to come back. He—he is lost, but he is still in there. The truth is, though, I don’t know if he’s ever coming back.” Leia’s eyes begin to well up with tears and it takes all of Rey’s willpower to not break down herself. “I don’t know where my son went, or where he’s going. I don’t know if Ben will return.” 

Rey’s throat tightens again at the sound of his name—she thinks it’s the first time she’s heard anyone other than Luke call him Ben. If that weren’t enough to make her cry, Leia hits her with another pang: “I cannot risk all these lives, and make all these people wait for somebody when I don’t even know if they’re coming.”

Rey wants to tell Leia she’s wrong. She wants to convince her that Ben _ will _come back, that he’ll turn, that she won’t have to live without her son any longer. She wants to scream that everyone is wrong about him. But truthfully, if she can be as reasonable as Leia is being… Rey doesn’t know if she’s right, either. 

Leia cups Rey’s cheek, still holding her hand with her free hand. “You know him,” she says softly. “You _ see _ him. That is… that is enough, for now. To know that someone else sees him.” 

There are no words—no words that can match Leia’s sentiment, so Rey simply nods quietly. When Leia tightens her grip around her hand, Rey squeezes softly back. 

Rey feels Leia seeking solidarity, so she moves to exit her room. “When the time comes, you’ll know what to do,” Leia whispers. 

Rey’s hand lingers on the doorknob. “How do you know?” She turns slightly, desperately searching Leia’s face for more comfort, more affirmation, more _ something _. 

Leia gives her a half-smile again, and shakes her head slightly. “I don’t know how I know, but I do. The same way _ you _know. The Force… it’ll guide you.” 

. . . 

  
  
When Rey returns to her tiny room and flops face first onto her little cot, waves of exhaustion rack her body. She can’t remember the last time she felt this tired. Then again, she can’t remember the last time she cried so much in one day.   
  
“Stupid tears take all your energy,” she mumbles to herself as she kicks off her shoes and sits up to slide into her sleep wear. She can’t help but feel funny every time she changes for bed; having a specific set of clothes just for sleeping is a privilege she never had on Jakuu. Not that she’s complaining, though. Small luxuries like this remind her just how thoughtful the General is. She forces her hair out of its buns and then lets her head hit the pillow, her hair bunching around her neck, her eyelids already fluttering. But she doesn’t want to succumb to sleep, not just yet. There’s something else… 

She reaches out with her mind, tired as she is, and waits for him. _ Ben? _

His response is quick, his mind immediately pressing against hers. _ What is it, Rey? _He still sounds urgent, still sounds worried, like he had earlier in the forest. His presence fills her mind, pushing out the events of the day—there’s no room for anything except him. 

_ I just.. Uh… _ Rey really had no way with words today, until they come tumbling out of her brain. _ Just talk to me _. 

Ben is silent for a moment. His entire presence pauses, as if he has no idea what to make of what she just said. _ About what? _

Rey rolls over in bed. _ Anything. Everything. Please just _ — _ talk to me. _She sounds like a needy child, begging for attention, desperately seeking connection, but she can’t help it. She needs to hear every word out of Ben Solo’s mouth; she needs to feel every thought that crosses his mind; she needs to know everything that has ever happened to him, everything he wanted to happen, and all that in between. 

It’s as if Ben can read her mind—and he can probably feel her need, because his presence softens into something less urgent. When he’s not anxious, he feels so… comforting. _ Okay. _

Rey squirms against her pillow and decides to be direct. _ Tell me everything. I _ — _ I need to know everything. Please _ . _ I need to know. _

_ You do know me_, he responds softly. 

Rey hopes he can’t feel the blush racing across her cheeks. _ More. All of it. Everything about you. _

It’s as if she can feel him sigh—but not an exasperated or frustrated sigh. A small sigh that’s understanding. She needs to know him deeply so she can not kill him.   
  
_ Okay, _ he says again, and his mind seems to settle a bit. _ What do you want to know first? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest I've gone between updates so I apologize for the delay. How are we all FEELING after that trailer drop? I will never get over seeing Ben walk through the rain like the wonderful space prince he is. I had planned these lines for Leia ("you know him, you see him) before the trailer drop, so JJ just gave me all the validation I needed to finally crank this out. Thanks, JJ. You're a real one.
> 
> Big thank you as always to beautiful [Rina](https://twitter.com/soIosreys) for all her pre-reading, editing, and support.
> 
> I have [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mrsreysolo)!
> 
> If you liked, let me know?


	6. Trusting

They spend the next several days like that —most of the time at night, sometimes in the morning, always Rey initiating the bond, always Rey begging to know more. Their minds bump clumsily against each other as he empties his mind for her, giving her a front row seat to the tragedy that is Ben Solo’s childhood and adolescence. Yet no matter how quickly he unfolds for her or how much he reveals, she always asks for more. More details, more stories, more answers. Ben has never had anyone so hungry to get to know him. His father kept him at an arm’s distance; his uncle never attempted to understand; Snoke took what he wanted without asking. Rey wants to know and to  _ understand _ . It frightens him, really, reliving all his old memories, and yet he shares them as closely as he can with this girl. All of them. She always asks for more and he always gives it to her. 

Every time their bond breaks, the virus burns a hole in his drawer. He knows that they’re losing time. He will either have to use it soon or he will not be able to at all. But Ben has a plan, and Rey’s rabid curiosity for his past is buying him time. The more he opens up for her, the more she trusts him. The more she trusts him, the sooner she will tell him where in the galaxy she is. The sooner he knows this, the sooner he can shut down the ships and go to her. 

Ben hasn’t told Rey his plans yet… but he will, when the time is right. As for now, he continues to empty himself for her. Every time they go deeper he thinks it will finally be too much for her; the evil he has done will finally repel her, he thinks. Still she returns for more. 

She always says the same thing:  _ Talk to me. _

He always has the same reply:  _ What do you want to know?  _

. . . 

Rey has spent the last few days alone. She hasn’t been alone, really; she’s been with Ben. But she’s been quiet on the base, not quite ignoring her friends but not quite seeking them out either. She has no idea how to explain to them her situation, and she  _ is  _ actively avoiding talking about murder. So she spent the last several days in a hazy routine—training, eating, learning about Ben, sleeping. 

It isn’t until almost a week of their information-laden bonds—Rey has taken to calling them “full disclosure”—that Finn finally reaches out. She’s in the dining hall, collecting her food to take back to her room, when Finn grabs her bread-filled hand and whirls her around to face him. 

“Excuse me, I think I’ve earned that roll,” Rey jokes, trying to be lighthearted in the face of Finn’s clearly concerned gaze. He hardly blinks. Her smile drops quickly and she shuffles her feet. 

“This isn’t about bread,” Finn says. Rey can’t meet his gaze, too overwhelmed to look him in the eye. His gaze is so intense, so steely, that she knows he knows. He knows something is up. She does not want to lie to Finn, but how exactly can she tell him the truth?

Finn lets go of her wrist and sighs quietly, leaning against the long bar. “Ever since our last meeting, you’ve been… I don’t know. Distracted. Occupied. Like something’s on your mind.”

She averts her eyes and tries to think of all the ways she could possibly avoid having this conversation, and comes up blank. Finn just keeps staring at her patiently and she shuffles her feet, wrings her hands, bites her lip, pulls at the fabric of her clothes…  _ anything _ other than talking. 

“Look, I know what Poe said caught you off guard. Caught me off guard, too. And I know he can be… well, hotheaded, passionate, aggressive, whatever.” Finn clears his throat, and his eyes quickly dart to his boots, and then back up at her. “He’s just doing what he thinks is right.”   
  
Rey doesn’t move. “I know.”

“But it’s a lot easier for him to say it, than to be the one to… well, do it.”   
  
“I know,” she says again. 

Finn sighs again, and places his hand on Rey’s shoulder. His gentle touch makes her want to cry—is it guilt, for keeping a secret from him? Is it anger still, that everyone is expecting her to do this? 

“I wish you would just tell me, Peanut,” Finn says quietly. “Whatever it is.”

Finally holding Finn’s gaze, she studies everything in her friend’s eyes—his fatigue, his worry, his gentleness, all underscored by a deeply rooted understanding. If there is anyone here she can tell, it would be him. She doesn’t want to cry—she can’t cry, not again, she has been crying  _ far  _ too much lately—when Finn squeezes her shoulder. 

“You don’t have to tell me now,” he almost whispers. “I don’t know everything. I don’t  _ need  _ to know everything. But if this is about Kylo… well, Rey, the choice is up to you.”   
  
Rey has to blink a few times. “What?”

Finn gives a half-shrug, but his eyes are still serious. “I mean, none of  _ us  _ can do it, so in that regard we are relying on you. But no matter what I or Poe or anyone else thinks you should do… Rey, the choice will have to be yours. I trust you.  _ We  _ trust you… to do the right thing.”

He’s left her speechless, but doesn’t seem to mind her lack of response. He just smiles softly and heads back to where Poe is sitting. Rey shoves as much food into her hands as possible and nearly runs back to her room, flopping immediately onto her bed and shoving a roll into her mouth. 

_ The right thing. _ She knows what Poe thinks it is. Finn pretty much told her he agrees. The General stands… in an impossible situation. As does she. 

She rests her head against her palms, chewing and swallowing furiously, as her mind almost immediately probes for his. It is as if she can’t get to him fast enough. She is impatient, her mind running about their bond, knocking—no, more like pounding—on the door of his mind. 

His gentle response is quite the contrast to her forceful entry.  _ Is everything alright? _

_ I’m fine,  _ she lies. She knows he knows. He can feel it, as if he were here with her. 

_ No, you’re not, _ he replies immediately. And then,  _ But neither am I.  _

Rey’s chewing slows, and his presence fills their bond like thick fog—floating and going every which way. He’s distracted, too.  _ Is this, uh, not a good time? _

His response is immediate, but soft.  _ I always have time for this. For you. _ It gives Rey goosebumps all along her arms and elbows. Can he feel that, too?   


She impulsively decides to address the stinging in her chest.  _ They still want me to kill you.  _

He is silent for a moment, but his space in her mind does not falter.  _ I know _ . 

Rey closes her eyes and exhales.  _ Give me something. Something… to hold on to. Something so that I… so that I can’t do it.  _ There is a moment of quiet; their minds together yet completely still.  _ Please _ , she adds. 

Ben is still for another moment, and when he replies, his presence is stronger than ever.  _ I need you to trust me _ . 

A beat. Rey’s eyes flash open, and she stares up at her ceiling.  _ What? _

_ I said, I need you to trust me. _ Another beat.  _ Please. _

When Rey doesn’t respond, he continues, and Rey silently marvels at how his presence can be so strong and yet so gentle with her simultaneously.  _ I have something. Something that will significantly slow down Hux. Slow down the First Order. They won’t see it coming… at least, I hope not. But I need you to tell me where you are _ . 

Her heart jumps into her throat. Since she has asked him to tell her everything, he hasn’t asked anything of  _ her. _ He has been totally and freely sharing with her, not asking in return, giving her every answer she seeks. And now, he has asked for her location. For the enitre Resistance’s location. 

_ I understand what I am asking of you is not easy,  _ he says softly.  _ But Rey… please. _

There’s that word.  _ Please _ . He’s said that to her before. And when he says it now, it makes throat tighten and her stomach flip and her fingers shake and for her mind—no doubt he can feel this part—spin in all possible directions.  _ Please _ . 

She remembers everything he has told her. About himself, about his past, about his family, about the First Order. The willingness in which he opened his mind to her. The gentleness when she always came back rabid for more. The way in which he stripped himself for her, leaving himself completely vulnerable to her, so that she could have the chance to know him intimately. Surely, that had not all been for naught. 

Shutting her eyes again tightly, she lets out a shaky breath.

_ We are on Takodana, near Maz Kanata’s. There is a clearing in the forest. Our base is small but efficient. When not directly on base, I am most often among the trees.  _

It’s as if he takes in a sharp breath.  _ Where I first saw you.  _

She can hardly keep her tears from falling now, choking on them and wiping her eyes furiously.  _ Yes. Where I first saw you _ . 

There is a moment of silence and stillness—a moment that seems to stretch on and on and on. And then, his voice. His presence. His mind tapping softly against hers. 

_ Wait for me. I’m coming. _

. . . 

Where he had so many times faltered, he now finds resolve. 

With the scratched-out code tucked safely into his glove, Ben wastes no time heading for the control center. So many times had he considered what it would be like to finally leave all this behind; so many times had he wondered what his life could be like after this; so many times had he feared rejection, yet again, at the hands of Rey. She had chosen to trust him. Now, he must make good on his promise. 

He is not quite sure what the virus will actually do. The creator had guaranteed its success in injuring the engines, and Ben had (rather foolishly) not asked for practical details. Perhaps the ships will simply stall and stand still in space. Perhaps they will tank and crash. He does know it will not reach  _ every _ ship of the armada—there will no doubt be escape pods or smaller ships still in use. He is certain Hux will figure out which and use it to escape, seizing the power he has so long craved. But no matter what it does, it will throw them for a loop, causing the First Order to stumble just long enough for him to escape. 

After he leaves Rey, he wastes little time in making his way into the control room. He has already packed his bag. When you give yourself to the Dark Side, there is not much to call your own, anyway. He waves off those guarding the door—they give him a sharp nod, never questioning his actions—and the doors shut behind him. In front of him lies every control to the First Order’s tech. Hux’s domain, really. But he knows enough to start punching out what has been scratched onto a small slip of paper for too long. 

This is how Kylo Ren dies. A small piece of paper with a coded virus. A flash of computer lights and a soft beeping. A set of doors opening and closing again. The soft scuffle of his boots as he marches toward his ship, prepped for immediate departure. He does not wait to see if the ships actually begin to fail. By the time the symptoms begin to show, it will be too late for him. With a wave of his hand, every person in sight looks the other way. He does not know how long the Force can hold them before  _ someone _ realizes he’s leaving, and he’s alone. 

He climbs into the cockpit, his bag resting between his knees, his gloved hands tight around the controls. He shuts his eyes as the gravity of his departure rests heavily on his chest. They will call him a traitor, possibly a coward. And yet that weight is soon replaced by an exhale of relief. All those years chained to Snoke, to the First Order, to the Dark Side—all of it slides down his shoulders as he continues to exhale. He’s not yet free. Not yet. He will have to fly all night to reach her. But he has never been  _ this close _

He does not look behind his shoulder before shutting the doors. He can hear the confused voices, beginning as murmurs and quickly escalating to shouts, soon accompanied by a trample of hurried footsteps. 

But none of that matters. The doors have already shut, and he has already taken off. 

. . . 

She can feel him before anything else. 

First it’s just the usual quiet. The stillness that comes before their bond opens. The familiar feeling that he’s there, just a small reach away from her mind. But when the feeling trickles down her spine, covering her arms in goosebumps, making her toes curl—she knows he’s  _ so much _ closer. 

She is alone, walking among the trees, listening to the wind whip softly through the branches. Her mind still reeling with his words from last night. Completely at a loss for what he had planned.  _ Wait for me, Rey _ . Those four words swirled around in her mind on a constant loop, pushing out any other thoughts, allowing room only for him. And then the feeling, and the unmistakable sound of a ship. 

The mechanic whirring had clearly caught the attention of everyone. By the time the ship comes into full view, nearly the entire Resistance has gathered, forming a half-circle around the ship’s assumed landing point. Most have their blasters pointed at the sky; others are shielding their eyes from the bright morning sun. Rey stands outside the half-circle for a few moments, unsure whether to stay back or sprint to the front. Her heart thuds furiously against the chambers of her chest, and before her mind—still monopolized by his four words—can catch up with her body, her feet are moving, her shoulders nudging her way to the front of the crowd. 

She can’t tear her eyes from the ship overhead.  _ His  _ ship. As it begins to slowly descend, she can feel the load of his presence descend upon her, simultaneously threatening to crush her own mind yet buoying it. In the moments of his descent, moments that seem to stretch into infinity, she can feel the desperate tug-and-pull of their minds. It is as if they both do not know quite what to do. As her mind bumps clumsily against his, his mind similarly knocks against her unsurely. She wonders if she should say something, communicate something, but her presence rattles against his so fiercely she cannot form coherent thought. There is only him and her, hopelessly trying to come to terms with the closeness of one another. 

Before, when they had been across the galaxy, he would reside in the open space of her mind, his presence filling each crevice as they opened up for each other. But now that he’s here,  _ physically  _ here, nearly right in front of her, the voracious draw to him washes over her entirely. Before she could temper herself, letting her mind brush against his only as much as she would allow, able to hide parts of herself in the deep recesses where he couldn’t reach. He is here now, just behind those doors, and Rey is frozen, the profoundness and severity of their connection right in front of her. She remembers the last time he touched her—the light touch of his fingers, tracing her jawline ever so slowly. The heat of just one finger completely flooding her senses. He is here now. All of him. And he is all-consuming; his mere existence seems to envelop her and yet she is unafraid of him. No one makes a sound as the wind continues to brush softly through the trees and the doors of the ship slide open. 

And then, there he is. All six-foot-who-knows of him. If feeling him wasn’t enough to drive her to the brink,  _ seeing  _ him, seeing all of him  _ right  _ in front of her, just might be. Her thudding heart stills as it leaps into her throat, leaving her to choke on any words that might have formed. Leaving her to say nothing, do nothing except stare at him. And there are his eyes—his big, brown, sad eyes—pinning her in her place. He doesn’t shift his gaze at all, completely and totally locked on her, even as he takes two steps forward, even as he raises his hands up to his shoulders.

And then he speaks, his low thrum of baritone filling the thick silence. 

“My name is Ben Solo, and I surrender to the Resistance.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a MINUTE since I've updated this, but here it is. My best attempt at trying to crack all this out before Episode IX. 
> 
> As always, a big thanks to [Rina](https://twitter.com/soIosreys) for all her encouragement and support. Truly I could not do this without her. 
> 
> I have [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/mrsreysolo)


	7. Touching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the last time I updated this, I wrote that I wanted to finish before episode IX... that clearly didn't happen. And I thought to myself, well once the REAL Bendemption and Reylo happen, I don't know what I'll do with mine!... 
> 
> And then episode IX happened. And here we are. 
> 
> So, just a quick reminder that all this takes place post-TLJ. I'm sticking with my original outline, so this won't include any of the information from IX.

Ben had imagined this moment. The flight to Takodana allowed ample time to create scenario after scenario inside his head, playing and then replaying what could, should, might happen once he arrives. The closest he got to the planet, the fuzzier the scenarios became, and the quicker his heart thudded in his chest. He had imagined the best; he had imagined the worst. 

Nothing he could have imagined would compare to the reality of Rey. 

There she is—right in front of him—not quite part of the crowd but not exactly separate from it, either. These are her people, the Resistance. He doesn’t take his eyes off her, but can sense that any eyes that aren’t pinned on him are totally glued on her, waiting to see what she will do. 

There is a moment of silence, not unlike the quiet he feels right before their bond first opens. They are both completely still, as is everyone around them; even the wind seems to have stopped its constant movement between the trees. 

She stares at him, her face unreadable. He stares back, his hands still at his shoulders. The moment seems to stretch out into forever… until she is suddenly bounding toward him, with such haste she nearly trips over her own feet, and then there she is—her tiny body pressed into his chest, her arms looping around his neck. He instinctively bends down a bit to accommodate her reach, but Ben still feels frozen, her tangible presence crashing violently over the familiar presence of her mind. He exhales quickly—he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath—and then lowers his arms to wrap around her waist. He closes his eyes. He can’t bear to look at anyone, not now; not when _ she _is so maddeningly close. 

Her exhale tickles his ears. “Ben.” His name leaves her lips in a whisper, laden with surprise but also a strain of relief. 

“Rey,” he rumbles against the curve of her neck, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. 

He is not sure how long they remain like that, with his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around her tiny waist, as her hands rest on the back of his neck. However long it is, it isn’t long enough, before someone starts shouting. 

“Alright, enough,” the person shouts, forcing him to open his eyes. He sees that pilot, the one who had the droid, with a blaster pointed directly at his forehead, looking ready for murder. “Hands up where we can all see them.”

He does as he’s told, releasing Rey and straightening. If Rey had embraced him in a rush, she untangles herself from him excruciatingly slowly, as if this were the last time she would get to touch him. When she’s finally standing in front of him, he can study her face again—her eyes are fraught with an alarming intensity, and there’s a shade of something else, too. 

“Poe,” she begins softly, but the blaster isn’t lowered at all, and Poe takes another step toward him. 

Someone else emerges from the crowd—it’s the stormtrooper—and lays a hand softly on her shoulder. “Rey, come on,” her friend says softly, gently tugging so her body is facing him, but Rey doesn’t peel her eyes away from where Poe’s blaster is pointed. 

“Drop your weapons,” Poe barks out. He removes his lightsaber from his belt and lays it on the ground in front of him before returning to his original stance. Once again, nobody moves, and the air is thick with uncertainty. 

The pilot looks like he’s ready to shoot him between the eyes; the storm trooper looks… is it hurt? He can’t tell. Rey, on the other hand, looks desperate, her chest heaving rapidly. He reaches through their bond in an attempt to relax her, and if he thought his mind had been close to hers before, having her here in front of him…. Everything is so much closer. The intensity skyrockets as his mind rumbles in hers, and as she bumps back against him, he can feel her anxiety. She doesn’t know what to do, and frankly, neither does he. 

_ Rey, it’s okay, _he says anyway. 

The stormtrooper is tugging at her shoulder again, clearly trying to move her as gently as possible. “Rey… let’s go.”  
  
Rey gives her friend a suspicious glance, and then rests her gaze again on him, and he can feel her reaching out to him—looking to him for guidance. He nods his head over so slightly, because her friend is right. If they’re going to beat him, which is likely, and interrogate him, which is a definite, he doesn’t want her to be there for that. 

_ It’s okay. _

He can feel her resign, allowing her friend to lead her away, as more of the Resistance step forward with their weapons. He can feel her mind still swirling anxiously, tumbling over itself as she tries to make sense of their situation. If he can’t assure himself, he can assure her. 

_ I’m not going anywhere. _

. . . 

Rey had made it a point to not imagine telling her friends about him. Imagining the conversation brought up too much she didn’t know how to deal with. Finn and Poe would definitely bring up their more than complicated history, and who could blame them, really? Rey herself found it difficult to explain away—but no, that’s not the point. She wasn’t trying to explain it away. She would have to make them see the _ change _. 

Whatever she may or may not have planned to tell them, that all went out the window once he showed up. 

Finn had all but very gently dragged her to her room, with Rose following, in silence. Now that she’s sitting on the foot of her bed, both of them kneeling in front of her, she does her best to read their expressions. Rose looks concerned, more than anything, and Rey thinks she can spot a tenderness behind Rose’s eyes. Finn’s face is a bit more complicated. He looks simultaneously stunned, bewildered, suspicious, frustrated, angry, and—is that a hint of betrayal? Rey can’t bring herself to look either of them in the eye. She feels as if she were floating, not quite recovered from the enormous closeness of his presence, the heat of his hands on her waist lingering. 

Unable to sit with them just _ staring _anymore, Rey finally breaks the silence. “What will they do to him?” 

Finn exhales loudly, rubbing a hand over his face. Rose puts her hand on Rey’s knee, rubbing softly. “They’ll probably take him to his—to the General.”

“And then?”  
  
“We don’t know.” Finn clears his throat, cracking his knuckles, clearly uneasy. “We didn’t see this coming.”

. . . 

The Resistance wasted no time in showing him his place. 

Ben sits at the end of a long table, his hands bound at the wrists. He chews softly at his bottom lip, the taste of copper still sticking to his teeth as his lip subsided to bleed. He had to admit, Poe had gotten a solid punch in. He didn’t fight back; he didn’t resist at all. He had let the little pilot fly at him, then lowered his eyes as they bound his wrists. Very few of them actually spoke to him. Most of them still seemed stunned by his presence at all, and he couldn’t blame them. 

Poe also sat at the long table, next to the stormtrooper (Finn, he said his name was?) and the men who had tied his hands. Ben can’t help but feel queasy; he hardly knows a single person here, yet they all know who he is. 

A young blonde girl enters the room, and the soft, tense chattering of the Resistance members ceases. Ben sits up straighter in his seat and narrows his eyes, trying to place the strange creature the blonde holds in front of her. Another girl follows, the same lizard-like creature nestled in her arms. 

Poe shoots up and walks over, excited. “Maz got you these?”

The blonde nods, and when Poe turns to look at Ben, he has a wicked half-smile on his face. Ben does his best to keep his face neutral, searching his mind trying to figure out what the heck that thing even is, when suddenly, he feels it. 

Ben can’t quite describe the feeling. It’s as if someone had torn out one of his bottom ribs, leaving the rest of his ribcage to clack against itself shakily. Or as if someone had reached into his chest and removed the very center, leaving a gaping hole in the middle. The feeling he had known his whole life—the instinct that something was _ there _ with him—was ripped away. 

“Ysalamir, from Myrkr, in the inner rims,” Poe gives as an explanation to what seems to be an equally confused Resistance. “I didn’t know Maz had any, but you know, she’s always got tricks up her sleeve.” He almost laughs a bit, putting his hands on his hips. “These suckers are known for repeling the Force. When they’re around, they create a sort of Force-neutral bubble.” Poe is definitely staring at Ben now. “So… _ nobody _ here can use the Force to influence.”

Ben bit down on his lip harder, releasing a new trickle of blood. Even after he didn’t protest, even after he came willingly, they still didn’t trust him. Not that he can blame him. The unfamiliar emptiness doesn’t really make him angry—it’s more disorienting than anything. 

His bound hands turn clammy, however, when he realizes the gaping hole, the missing rib, severs his connection with Rey. 

He wonders if she feels it too. 

When the two girls finally sit, Ben notices the only empty chair is at the other end of the table, for what he presumes to be the seat of the leader. _ The General. _But Poe doesn’t wait for anyone else to arrive. 

“So, let’s get started,” Poe claps his hands together, leaning toward Ben over the table, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brow. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

. . .

The connection severs and Rey feels it immediately. 

She had stayed in her room, sprawled out on her bed, caught between thinking far too much and not wanting to think. She would close her eyes and remember the way Ben’s hands felt wrapped around her waist, the way her body had just sunk into his chest, the way his warm shoulders enveloped her. Or she would remember his eyes and the heat of his gaze, fixed on her with ferocious intensity mixed with a sort of tenderness. Mostly, she would just revel in the undertones of his presence—the way that the bond of their minds vibrates at their physical proximity. He’s _ here. _

So when the low hum of their connection suddenly fizzles out, Rey feels it immediately. It’s as if someone had reached deep into her chest and plucked out the center, leaving a chasm within her bones. It leaves her disoriented, and alone, and most of all, desperate. Her mind can hardly catch up with the way her feet bring her out the door and moving toward the hall. 

They’ve left Rose to guard the door; Rose, the least deserving person of Rey’s fury. The thought that Poe must’ve _ planned _ it this way sends a new twang of frustration through her. What better way to temper Rey than to have the sweetest, most generous person blocking the door?

Poe has another thing coming. 

“What did they do to him?” Rey tries in earnest to keep her voice level, crossing her arms in front of her chest to hide the way her hands are beginning to tremble. 

“They’re just questioning him,” Rose says softly. Her eyes are kind, like they always are, and the guilt that sears through Rey for being unable to be kind back hurts. But she can’t. Not right now. 

Rey shakes her head. “They did something to him. I know they did.”

Rose leans forward to rest a hand on Rey’s forearm, and if she weren’t so bloody _ kind _all the time, Rey would have flinched at the touch. 

“Rey… you never told me.”

The guilt pools in her stomach, creeping up her throat, making her rock back and forth uneasily. Rey clears her throat, trying to think of something to say—something, anything—but choking down the guilt and pacifying herself is already taking up too much energy. 

“No, I didn’t,” she replies lamely. 

There is a moment of silence that stretches longer than Rey is comfortable with—made all the more agitated with the way Rose looks at her. Rose doesn’t want to fight, or argue, she can tell; she’s looking for genuine _ understanding _. Under normal circumstances, Rey might cry out of gratitude. But the chasm inside her only seems to grow, and the loss of Ben’s presence is a dead weight in her chest. The maddening loneliness that looms—no, she can’t take it. 

“Rose,” she tries to say softly, stepping an inch closer. “What did they _ do _to him?”

Rose bites her bottom lip faintly but never seems to lose her resolve. She is a good fighter that way: bold and firm _ and _ kind. “They got something from Maz. To be honest, I had only heard about it before. I didn’t know if they actually existed. Creatures that prevent Force users from tapping into, or using, its influence.” Her brow furrows a bit, and she looks deeply into Rey’s eyes. “And you could feel that, couldn’t you?” 

Rey uncrosses her arms, letting them hang by her side, his fists balled. “Yes. I could. I _ can _.”

Rose is looking at her as though she expects something more—an explanation, maybe, and who wouldn’t? But as the loss of Ben’s presence sinks deeper and deeper into her skin, Rey’s patience wears thin. 

“I don’t really know how it works. We just feel each other,” she offers by way of explanation, anxious to get to the point. “Rose, please… let me see him.”  
  
If Rose was resolved before, she steels even more now. “You know I can’t do that, Rey.”

Rey’s frustration flares, and maybe if she could, she would force Rose to let her in. But whatever is in there keeping Ben from reaching her has cut her off from the Force, too. She’s left with no recourse—nothing to do but stand there dumbly, trying not to cry because he is _ so close _and yet she can’t feel him at all, because her friend is standing in front of her confused, and worried, and something else Rey doesn’t want to put a name to. 

So she goes to the only place she can when she wants to be alone, when her room just doesn’t cut it anymore. She leaves Rose wordlessly and wanders about the trees, her feet thudding against the grass, the wind whistling again in the trees. 

. . . 

Ben’s wrists start to itch under their bindings. The Resistance has been questioning him for what feels like, and probably has been, hours. He has told them everything he knows—from how the new chain of command will likely go, to coordinates of ships, to access codes. They murmur amongst each other and then ask him again. He cannot help but be impressed with their thoroughness; as they comb through his answers, not a detail goes unnoticed, not a question missed. Ben answers them all honestly. He has no reason to lie. Not anymore. 

More troublesome than the bindings, though, is the growing vacuum deep within his core. The disconnect from Rey leaves him antsy, struggling to answer each question both thoroughly _ and _quickly, desperate to get away from these creepy lizards and back to her. If they’ll let him. 

He passes the time by chewing at his lip, by tapping his foot lightly against the leg of the table, by bouncing his knees. Anything to distract him from the blistering loneliness that hovers in the back of his mind, where she should be. 

They go through their questions again, and he answers. 

. . . 

Rey is sitting under the tallest tree, listening to the hum of the leaves when the chasm inside her suddenly dissipates. She is hit with his enormous presence immediately, his nearness crashing over her fiercely, and she struggles to get to her feet. 

She takes a step backward, taking a moment to revel in the mere feeling of him again, their minds rushing toward each other hurriedly. _ Ben? _

The deep, rich timbre of his voice is just how she remembers it. _ Rey _. 

She exhales slowly; she didn’t realize she had been holding her breath. She could cry, really. 

_ Stay there _. 

His words surprise her, and she looks around the trees, taking in a sweeping view of the forest around her. Can he see her?

He answers her unspoken question immediately. _ I can feel where you are. Just… stay there _ . A small beat. _ I’m coming _. 

It is so hard to remain still, knowing he is so close, knowing he will be right in front of her again. She focuses on everything else around her. The green of the trees. The smooth waves of the grass. The familiar whisper of the leaves above her as the wind continues to sing. The unfamiliar heat pooling in her stomach, and she toes the line between anxious and perfectly centered—

When she opens her eyes, he’s there. His hair is more mussed than when he first arrived, and he looks tired, she thinks, his eyelids drooping ever so slightly. He doesn’t have his weapons anymore, but they let him keep his clothes—his black boots, black pants, black long-sleeved sweater. His lip is cut, and whoever did that to him will most definitely hear it from her, but she can’t bring herself to focus on that right now. 

Not when he’s _ right here _, his big, brown eyes pinning her in place, as he moves slowly toward her. She leans back slightly, letting her back rest against the tree, and is struck by how reminiscent this is of their first meeting. Here, on Takodana, this same forest, these same trees, with him moving toward her. Except now she isn’t trying to run away, and neither of them have weapons, and she is completely unafraid. 

The wind’s song moves to a gentle hum, and now he’s right in front of her. His expression hasn’t changed at all, really. He is still looking at her with that same ferociousness that somehow mixes with tenderness, the brown pools of his eyes so clear and _ close _to her now. She lets her eyes lazily wash over his face, from his eyes to his full lips, from his regal nose to the dozens of moles that sprinkle across his face. It takes her a moment before she realizes he is doing the same—searching her face, basking in her existence. 

Her eyes flutter shut when he brings his hand to cup her cheek, and when his mouth finally crashes against hers, in the fierce yet somehow gentle way only he can, the wind once again begins to sing, drowning out the sounds of the forest, leaving room only for the way he exhales against her lips.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long stretch between updates. It was hard to get back into the space of writing these two, especially Ben, after what happened. I just miss him so much. But this is part of saving what we love.
> 
> I cannot give enough thanks to my beautiful baby [Rina](https://twitter.com/soIosreys), who encouraged me to keep going, and pre-reads every single one of my chapters, and is just overall the best friend I could ever ask for. Beijos.


	8. Wanting

His mind is practically vibrating out of his skull from her closeness. 

She is  _ right here _ . After so long. 

He doesn’t exactly remember what he thought of when he imagined finally being able to touch her, because now that she’s  _ here _ , and now that he  _ can, _ he won’t be able to forget it. The way her hands immediately tangle in his hair. The way her lips mold softly against his. The way her chest heaves as she leans in, ever so slightly, to deepen the kiss as he runs his thumb underneath her jaw. No, he won’t be able to forget, even if this is the only time she will allow it. It is far more than he could have ever asked for. Far more than he deserves after everything he’s done. 

_ Everything he’s done _ . It all comes rushing back to him. The wave of his past is crushing and brutal and it forces him to break the kiss. He immediately misses her closeness, but when she leans in again, he takes a small step back. “Rey.”

She looks—he can’t quite put a name to it. She is completely still but her eyes are full of something that looks like worry and confusion and—he can’t quite believe—there might be some  _ want  _ there. 

“Ben,” she says softly. Just the one syllable coming from her lips and Ben is certain he’s never heard anything better. “You came back.” 

If it was hard to breathe before, when she was sighing softly against his lips, it’s even harder to breathe now with the way she’s looking at him, the way she  _ sounds _ . Like she had really been wanted him to come…. All this time. All this time he’s spent trying to avoid and destroy his pain, his loneliness, his guilt, his power that he still doesn’t quite know what to do with. All this wasted time that could’ve been spent with  _ her. _

His thumb brushes against her cheek. “Of course I did.”   
  
She smiles then, and it’s easily the most beautiful thing Ben has ever seen. He could spend the rest of his life trying to earn her small smiles and it would still never be enough. He knows that. He needs to tell her. 

“Rey, I’m—” he exhales heavily, removing his hand from her cheek, steeling himself. “I should’ve done the talking first.” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head, unable to meet his gaze. “This is one of the most important things I’ve ever done, I’ll ever do, and I’m doing it wrong.”

“There’s time to talk now.”

He inhales sharply and forces himself to look at her. There’s still the softness he had felt when he kissed her and there is still the anticipation in her eyes he had seen when he approached her. But there’s something else, too, behind it all. It looks like resolve. Like she’s ready to hear what he’s finally about to say. 

So he just starts talking. “I just spent hours explaining myself to the Resistance, and really, there’s no way to do it. No way to excuse or justify or even forgive what I’ve done.  _ All  _ that I’ve done. And I told them that, over and over again, as well as everything I could about the First Order. Then—some of them left, and we all just sat there for a while. I assume they were telling my mother—she didn’t want to face me, and who can blame her? Who wants to face their son when he’s a monster? I must’ve sat there for at least half an hour before they came back and told me that it was  _ just _ enough.”

He knows he’s rambling, but he can’t stop himself. He  _ has  _ to get this out. She continues to look at him evenly, rooted in place. Even in her resolve, in her gentleness, she is still bold. 

“They sent back the Force-blocking creatures, but they took my weapons, and told me I probably won’t be getting them back. They told me that I was on thin ice, and I already knew I was, and that I would have to report back in the morning for a more formal punishment. And I told them all again how sorry I was, but I should’ve told you first. I should’ve told you everything first—and I did, in a way. Those times we would talk. I told you… as much as I could about myself, and why I am the way I am, and why I hate it, and why I just felt so stuck for so long.

“I was so lost, Rey. I had nowhere to go. Or at least, that’s what I thought. After Luke and what happened with the temple, I thought there was nowhere to go. No one who wanted me. Except Snoke, of course, but he didn’t really want  _ me _ , he wanted my power… and he used it, and I let him for so long. And…” He curses under his breath, his fists clenching and unclenching. “And Rey, I told them this, but I should’ve told you before anyone else—I’m sorry. I am  _ so  _ sorry. Everything I did, everything I let happen—there was so much that was wrong. And there’s no excuse and no explanation that will justify what I did. Because it was wrong.  _ I was wrong _ . And I can’t expect you to forgive me—because if I was you I don’t know if  _ I  _ would forgive me, I don’t  _ deserve it _ —and I know an apology can’t even begin to make up for it but… it’s true. I  _ am _ just so sorry.”

For several moments, she just looks at him. He knows she understands the gravity of what he’s saying. He knows she is familiar with the pain and loss and devastation he’s caused just as much as anyone else. He has no idea why she still holds compassion for him when she has every right to hate him just as the others do. She could have slapped him across the face, like Poe, and he would have never blamed her. He deserves it. All of it. 

So he can’t quite believe his ears when all she says back is, “I know.”   
  
He blinks, then he swallows. “You—what?”   
  
“I know,” she says again, closing the gap he’s created between them. “Everything you said. I know.” She reaches up to cup his cheek, and her hands are so small compared to his, and the tips of her fingertips so gentle. The last time someone had touched him like this, he had driven a saber through him. Rey herself had witnessed that. Yet here she is, all the same, holding his face like his father had. She has every reason to be afraid… yet she isn’t. 

“You’re right, and I know it,” she says softly, her fingers warming his cheek. “You were wrong.” She brings her other hand to the back of his neck, her fingers slowly tangling in his hair again, and he can’t help but lean into her touch. “But it’s not a question of whether or not you deserve it. You’re here now. You made the right choice… you came back.” She smiles at him again, a small smile just for him, and his knees threaten to give out. He wants to crumble to the ground, to kneel before her and beg for her forgiveness—but she keeps going. “You’re here _ now. _ And this is how we begin to make things right.”   
  
He swallows at that, trying to blink away the coming tears. “I don’t know how.”   
  
Her gaze is unrelenting. “Honestly, neither do I.” 

And once again they just stare at each other. Ben wonders if his mind will ever stop screaming at him because of her proximity, if their bond will ever grow accustomed to their physical closeness. He doesn’t want it to. Being around her like this is electrifying in a way he’s never felt as his brain hums and revels in the way her nearness feels so  _ right _ . 

She tilts her head upward to brush her lips against his nose, then his cheek, peppering light kisses across his face with a gentleness that has him reeling. “But I don’t want to think about that right now,” she murmurs, planting a small peck on his chin. “I just want to  _ be  _ with you.” Her mouth then moves to his neck, and Ben is certain he has never felt warmth like this before—the kind that starts where she presses her mouth and travels all the way through his ribcage and down to his toes. 

“Rey…” he tries, but she continues to give him her kisses, and he has been alone for so long. So he decides to take what she is willing to give him. He meets her lips again, and he wasn’t imagining the way her mouth molds against his, as if cut from the same cloth. His arms circle her waist as her tongue darts out, surprising him, coaxing his mouth open slowly before her tongue meets his. Ben is suddenly aware of how much he doesn’t know _ .  _ He has no idea how to do this,  _ any  _ of this. Given the hesitancy of her lips, neither does Rey—but they try anyway. Their mouths rock against each other clumsily at first, not knowing quite how their tongues fit together, until they fall into a steady rhythm that has her tugging on his hair in a way that makes him go  _ wild _ —unlocking a part of his brain and body previously untapped. 

She pulls back suddenly, keeping her face close to his, their noses touching. “Come with me.”

Immediately aware of his surroundings, he says, “But… people will see.”

Rey shakes her head, smiling. “First of all, no they won’t, they’re too busy figuring out what to do with you. And also… I don’t care.”

The weight of what she’s saying hits him sharply and the warmth that starting with her mouth grows.  _ She wants to be with me. She doesn’t care if they see _ . Surely, she can’t mean that. Surely, she must care that all her friends will have questions and raised eyebrows if they see her with him of all people. 

But she said it anyway. 

So when Rey grabs his hand and starts pulling him out of the forest, he follows her blindly, ready to accept whatever it is she’s willing to offer him. Ready to let it happen even though he doesn’t deserve it. As he follows behind her like a lost dog, she’s smiling and there’s a dark glitter in her eye, and he realizes simply cannot resist her. Not like he would ever want to. 

. . . 

Rey was right. There was hardly anyone around near the bunks when she lead him back to her room, and she pulls him so excitedly and with such vigor that anyone who might have caught a glance would’ve had to do a double take. 

It’s strange to be in such an intimate place with her. For so long they had been apart, separated by lightyears of galaxy, and now here he is—leaning against her bedroom door, unsure what to do. She stands at the foot of her bed and looks far more confident than he’s sure he does.

“Come here.” Her voice is soft, but firm, and he immediately finds himself standing in front of her. It’s amazing, really, the power of two small words coming from her perfect mouth. 

She brings her hands to her shoulders and pushes gently, and he takes the cue to sit on the foot of her bed, his hands gripping her sheets. She inhales before moving to stand right in front of him, pressing his knees gently to spread them, to make room for herself between his legs. She kisses him again, and her lips are just as soft as they were in the forest, but there is more heat behind them now. Her lips move with more urgency, her tongue sliding against his with more need, and he braces himself for her onslaught of warmth by planting his hands on her waist. 

They stay like that for a minute or two. Ben is surprised to find how nice kissing is. Just kissing is enough to make his chest bloom with warmth and comfort as the aching of years and years of loneliness slowly begins to thaw. 

He can’t help but gasp against her mouth when she lifts herself up to straddle his lap. She doesn’t break the kiss and settles herself comfortably on top of him, and Ben can immediately feel the heat of her core pressed against his, and—

“I’m nervous,” he blurts out. He can feel himself blush, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He really,  _ really  _ does not know what he’s doing. Any pretense of maybe knowing has just evaporated, and he’s already mentally kicking himself when she chuckles softly. 

“Me too,” she says, pushing his hair away from his face. “I’ve never done this.”

“Me neither.” 

She laughs again, and Ben knows he will be chasing that sound for the rest of his life, if she will let him. “So, I guess we can just…. Figure it out together.”    
  
When she says that word,  _ together _ … all this doesn’t seem so nerve wracking. 

“Okay,” he breathes before leaning in to kiss her again. And this time, he can feel her nerves just like he feels his. More than anything, though, she feels  _ excited _ , and Ben can’t believe that she’s actually  _ here _ . She lead him to her room and is now straddling him, kissing him, sighing against his mouth. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever believe it. 

Her fingers play with the hem of his shirt slowly at first, the tips just brushing against his hipbone before she finally pushes upward to expose his stomach. She breaks the kiss to lift it up and over his head, and there’s a moment where she just stares at his chest, running her fingers along his collarbone and down his stomach. His instinct is to feel self-conscious. That quickly fades with the way her eyes are now hooded and she leans in to feel his mouth again, her tongue and lips rapidly increasing with want and need. His fingers tease at the tip of her tunic, waiting for her permission before she chucks it up and across the room before he can do it himself. 

“Too eager?” she asks breathily against his lips, her tongue searching for his throat again. 

He grunts out a soft “never” before leaning backward to take all of her in. 

She’s so beautiful, all freckles and lean muscle and tanned skin. There is no way to describe it. No way that Ben knows how to articulate. So he opts for his mouth to do the work for him as he leans in to lap gently at her shoulders, her collarbone, the base of her neck. He leaves wet, open mouthed kisses all across her sternum and her chest, and she arches her back and he presses his lips against her abdomen, sighing and whining above him. He trails her body again, kissing and nipping gently and then running his tongue where his teeth once were. 

“So beautiful,” he finds himself saying. Praises drip from his tongue without abandon; he cannot stop himself even as he grows less and less coherent. “Nothing more beautiful. I can’t believe you’re real. Beautiful, beautiful Rey. Can’t believe you’re real.”   


She continues to sigh and moan gently into his shoulder, her fingernails digging into his back sharply as he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks. “ _ Ben _ .” 

She rolls her hips against his center, as if on instinct, and whatever part of Ben’s brain that had been dormant before is now fully awake. He allows his bodily instincts to take center stage as he flips her onto her back, hovering above her as he continues to sloppily devour her chest. His fingertips tease at her waistband, and he takes the deeper moan that escapes her lips as the okay to pull her leggings down her thighs. He doesn’t break away from her chest—doesn’t want to—and she helps him get her clothing around her ankles and onto the floor. 

Seeing her completely bare beneath him—it is nothing like Ben has ever felt before. It is nothing like Ben will ever feel again. The warmth that has been building in his chest threatens to explode as he slowly pushes her knees apart, settling himself between her legs. 

Rey’s head shoots up, propping herself up on her elbows as she looks down at him with a furrowed brow. “Ben?”   
  
“Hmm?” He presses his lips to the inside of her thigh and doesn’t miss the way her breath hitches. 

“Ben—Ben you don’t have to— _ oh my god _ —if you don’t want to—”   
  
He leans against his elbows and lifts his head to look her straight in the eye. “I want to.” He steadies himself by placing one hand under her knee and the other on top of her stomach, his hand splayed wide. “That is… if  _ you  _ want.”

Rey swallows and whispers, “Yes.” And that is all Ben needs before dipping his head back in. 

Ben has never done this before. He’s never used his mouth on a woman in any way, especially not  _ here _ , not where she’s so sensitive that even the smallest nip has her sighing. But when he finally dips his tongue into her, she tastes like something he’s wanted before. Like something he’s been chasing his whole life, and now he’s finally  _ found  _ it. He laps into her almost greedily, and with the way blood is rushing toward his center, he thinks he may be enjoying this  _ almost  _ as much as she is, with her soft whines and small moans that grow louder and louder as he eats her up like a man starved. 

So, no, Ben has never used his mouth on a woman before. He has no experience with this, so he just presses his mouth and tongue against her hot core, listening and feeling for her reaction. Grazing his teeth against her as she pushes her heels into his back. Using the flat of his tongue to run along her slit as she groans and asks for more. Letting the tip of his tongue flick that small but  _ oh so sensitive  _ spot, and he knows he’s found it when she starts pushing herself into his face, her fingers finding purchase in his dark hair, the taste of her dripping down his mouth and chin and throat. 

If he thought she was beautiful before, she’s even more beautiful when she comes, her thighs trembling and her hands pulling his hair as she rides out her high and he licks her through it, finding himself desperate to get every drop he can. 

And when she’s lying there, all boneless and sated and with a  _ smile  _ on her face no less, she tugs lazily at his belt. “These have been on too long,” she murmurs, and he can’t help but laugh at her growing frustration with her own body, too blissed out to tug at his pants properly. 

“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, kissing her temple as he finally frees his massive erection. Rey’s eyes immediately widen, and she sits up slightly, staring at his red, leaking cock. 

He’s never realized before that he’s… well, well-endowed. Never had a reason to think about it before. 

“We don’t have to,” he says softly, running his fingers through her hair, the taste of her still fresh on his lips. “It’s okay.”   
  
She lays flat on her back again and pulls him toward her, and she spreads her legs even wider, trying to line him up with her entrance. “No, I want to,” she says breathily. “Just… slowly.”

He can’t help but smile at her as he nods, and in this brief moment of clarity, before the lust and pleasure cloud his brain again, he once again finds himself wondering how she’s real, how she’s here with him, how she actually  _ wants  _ him and  _ chose  _ him. 

His cock brushes the tip of his entrance, and before the overwhelming  _ want  _ and  _ desire _ flood his mind again, he presses a soft kiss to her sternum. And as he presses into her slowly, feeling her stretch and flutter and clench around him, he is unable to close his eyes. He wants to memorize every part of her face, every part of her perfect body, every part of this beautiful intimacy she has chosen to give to him. 

He begins to rock into her slowly. Her vocality drives him wild, but he doesn’t speed up yet. He told her he would go slowly—and he wants to remember this. He wants to remember  _ her  _ and how she feels—how they feel together. 

He could spend the rest of his life trying to be worthy of this, trying to be worthy of  _ her _ , and it would never be enough. 

He will try anyway. As long as she lets him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken so long to update it's almost embarrassing. For those who are still here, thank you so much. Also, the chapter count went up! 
> 
> This is my first time ever writing smut... so.... yeah. Hope I did okay. 
> 
> Big thanks to beautiful [Rina](https://twitter.com/soIosreys) who reads through all my drafts, even when I send them in the middle of the night. I could not do this without you.


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